


The Shift

by thehobbitivy



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehobbitivy/pseuds/thehobbitivy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas grows up a spoiled middle child, wasting his time and avoiding his duties to the kingdom. This is the tale of Legolas Greenleaf growing up as told through the point of view of his nanny, Lin. "Do not fear that you will not prove your worth, for you will never fail if you believe in yourself and trust in what you believe in."</p><p>Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net under the same name (and penname).</p><p>Thanks go to JoanJoanJoanJoan for being my tireless and wondrous Beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changing Hands

T.A. 1119

Everything began when the Queen of Mirkwood arrived. Although she had visited many times before, as her family had deep roots among the great mellyrn of Lothlórien, she was visiting on the Lady of the Wood's invitation this time, and many welcomed the Queen Mirwen back to the Golden Wood.

The Lady Galadriel had this time, it seemed, preemptively invited Queen Mirwen to Lórien. She was newly with child, her second, and her first son. I assumed the Lady Galadriel must have seen something of utmost importance in her mirror, as she frequently invited elves to Lórien from the other realms on that basis. For her to have heeded a summons from the Lady was mildly surprising, for separation of a mother and child from the father during a pregnancy was not recommended and took a toll on all parties. And although the relationship between the two great woods was still strained, no doubt the Queen would never have refused an invitation from the Lady. Her foresight would always be something the Mirkwood queen would be very interested in benefitting from.

I did not hear this conversation, because as a Lady-in-Wait to Galadriel, I had no such privileges. Instead, I was summoned to the Lady afterward, and make no mistake – I was burning with curiosity as to what use I could be to them.

"Aralin," Lady Galadriel said, as she descended the steps of her spacious talan and stood in front of me, with the Queen standing close behind. Galadriel stopped before me and raised her hand to cup my face. This was not entirely unusual – she was a kind, if frightening woman. "Aralin, you have been of great service to me for many years. Will you, once again, aid me?" she asked, although I knew she already knew my answer: I would do anything for her. She was my mistress and mentor, and my fealty to her was often intertwined with feelings of love and respect, not because her position demanded them from me, but because she had long ago earned them.

"I am always at your service," I answered, meeting her bright eyes and, as always, being stunned at the depths I saw; depths that came only with thousands of years' worth of knowledge and experience. It was like looking into the past, but looking through a misted glass and being sure only of knowing that many things were happening on the other side. I, or no one else, save Galadriel herself, could see those images clearly.

"Will you leave my service and enter that of the Queen of Mirkwood?" Galadriel finally asked. I could tell she was listening in on my thoughts for my immediate reaction. I could not deny that her request was quite shocking to me. Many thoughts and requests would have crossed my mind before this one. And yes, immediately, my response was negative: Lothlórien was not only my home, but also the only place I had ever known. I was afraid and unaware of what went on outside the borders, not at all familiar with the Middle Earth that lay beyond the edges of the forest, except for what I had seen in maps, illustrations and brief histories I had read.

However, if the Lady were requesting that I do this, I had faith that she had to have a good reason to justify the means. Although still wavering internally, I verbally committed to a response and said, "I would only do it if you no longer required my assistance." It was an answer that was neither positive nor negative, and I knew that the Lady would be pleased with my neutral omission. Galadriel smiled at me and replied:

"Sweet Aralin, you will be of greater need to the House of Oropher," she assured. There was something more encouraging in her tone than in the words themselves, and so I realized what my response would have to be. Even though I felt stunned and a little numb (and rightly so, I thought. That I would ever be dismissed was not news I had ever anticipated to hear,) I confidently squared my shoulders, giving, if anything, the outward appearance of confidence.

Having no other objection, I complied: "Then I, of course, will do your bidding, though I leave you with a heavy heart." If Galadriel wanted me to go into the service of the Queen then, there was a good reason for it, which I would eventually realize, hopefully sooner rather than later.

"We will leave within the month; I am anxious to return to my husband," Queen Mirwen said to me with a warm smile.

I bobbed a curtsy and replied simply, "Yes," since I had nothing else to say.

"You will have a little time to set your affairs in order," she assured me with a kind and genuine smile. "I understand this will be a difficult transition for you." It was surprising to me to realize that, even standing next to the most powerful elf in this wood, the queen still managed to command my attention when she spoke. She possessed a light and warmth all her own that soothed me. With her smile she reassured me that I might have made the right choice in acquiescing to Lady Galadriel's will.

"Thank you, your majesty," I replied, waiting for Galadriel to dismiss me.

"You may leave," she said. The glint in the Lady's eyes told me she was in my head again, turning over my thoughts as if they were stones in a sieve. I started to descend the stairs. "Aralin?" she called to me. I turned around and began to return – "Old habits die hard," she added, clearly referencing my thoughts again. Galadriel frequently visited my thoughts. Often I thought I could feel her flipping through them like pages in a book, and though I couldn't imagine my mind being the most interesting place to be, she must have always found what she wanted. I did not pretend to possess a great mind like her Ladyship, but I suppose if she was inside of everyone's thoughts as often as she was, she was bound to learn a lot from her subjects' streams of consciousness.

"More than you know," Galadriel responded aloud to my thoughts. "You are free to go," she said, her eyes glittering in the way that only the Lady's could. She was likely amused by my frank thoughts of half verbal conversations.

I felt it would be polite not to laugh until I left, but a giggle did indeed escape through my restraint. "Thank you, my lady," I said through stifled chuckles, turning to leave the talan.

\----- 

As I walked back through the trees to my talan, I realized with a pang that leaving would not be a difficult affair to organize at all, at least, in a practical sense. I had few possessions that I could not live without, but I realized with dismay that I did not understand the dynamics of transplanting one's life. I had moved only twice: out of my parents' house when I was old enough, and then again when I moved into my husband's home when we were married. I needed to consider much, most of which I could not – or perhaps did not want to – think about at this time. At this very moment in time, I just wanted to sink into my husband's embrace.

Realistically, of course I did not want to leave the place of my childhood and upbringing. It had been a place of sanctuary buried deep in a world where much had changed; a place of beauty in a world that had started to decay around us all. I had lived for long enough to realize that, although very slowly, the autumn lengthened every year.

What would I do with my house? How would I tell Cirvel? How would I tell our daughter?

I entered my small abode and took a good look around the place that had been my home for more than three centuries. This wasn't a long time, not to Elves, but it seemed to be forever to me. Reasonably, I told myself that I could leave some things behind…

I gathered my head and peered around with a critical eye: perhaps I could even give this talan to my granddaughter, Nemir, who had not yet left her mother and father's home. Yes, I decided – this would be a fitting place for Nemir, whose little feet had pitter-pattered around these floors since she could walk. Though she was now considered of-age, she still looked upon this place as a haven. She loved this place as much as I did.

Yes, I decided. What is mine would be hers. She deserved a home such as this.

I heard a noise behind me. It was unusual, and my ears neither recognized the footsteps nor the presence. I turned and waited for them to reveal themselves. To my surprise, it was Queen Mirwen ascending the steps to my talan.

"My Queen," I said, dipping my head in recognition of her status.

"Aralin, my dear, you are so lovely," the Queen gushed, surprising me again and stepping forward to kiss my brow. She gently clasped my face for a few seconds, and then my hands in turn.

"I – th-thank you," I replied, shocked into stuttering. I was not used to such treatment from someone who was supposed to be my superior. Galadriel certainly never treated me thus, and while it was unusual, it was not unpleasant. The Queen's assuring and caring aura seemed to wrap around me and calm me.

"You honor me with your agreement to come into my service, you really do. The Lady Galadriel has told me much about you. You are a favorite of the Lady's, surely you know this," she divulged happily, searching my eyes for my reaction.

I paused, wondering how to be polite with my answer. "The Lady does not often speak of her emotions and thoughts to those who serve her," I said humbly, knowing this was an honest response. "But… I am glad to know of it."

"To be quite honest, I do not believe she speaks of her emotions and thoughts to anybody!" the Queen exclaimed with a chuckle. "As fair warning, you will experience quite the opposite with me and my family, I assure you. In those dark woods, we are often a little too verbal with our opinions!" she said with a wry smile. I wondered if I would ever see her without a broad grin gracing her face. "Now, you must let me help you arrange your departure," she demanded suddenly, walking around and giving my quarters a once-over, placing her hand to her chin and clearly wondering where to begin. "A woman should not be left alone in this business."

"I – my Queen-" I stammered, afraid of offending.

"Merely Mirwen, my dear. You will find us not only verbal with our opinions but quite informal with our titles in Mirkwood. Of course, when holding court, it is quite a different affair," she corrected me. I experienced a moment of dizziness – it seemed that my whole life was turning topside. I was reluctant but resolved to see it through, as I had freely agreed to make this change in my life.

"My – Mirwen." (I wondered briefly if I was damned to forever stutter in her presence?) "I need to tell my husband, and he will doubtless aid me with our departure."

Queen Mirwen was unabashed. "Very well, but I shall be by here tomorrow to pester you again into accepting my help. We leave soon, for I must be home within the month." I could understand why. She glowed with the presence of her child, and I remembered well the separation anxiety that I experienced when I was away from my husband when I was pregnant. It is imperative for the bond to be strong between the three, and it is exhausting for the mother to play two of those parts, even for a short amount of time. To be truthful, I was surprised that Thranduil had let her come on this journey at all – but yet with an outspoken and strong-minded partner, I wondered whether Thranduil really had any say in her decision.

"If you will excuse me, I must seek out my husband," I said politely, moving past the queen to descend the stairs.

"Very well, Aralin," she replied.

"Lin, please," I informed her. "My friends call me Lin." I had always been called Lin, though I did not understand why my parents named me one thing and called me another. Perhaps someday I would ask, but that would not be for a long time; my parents had sailed West many years ago, shortly after my marriage to Cirvel.

The queen beamed. "I am honored that you number me among your friends," she happily admitted.

\----- 

When I finally plucked up the courage to tell him, Cirvel took the news as well as one could hope. Not unlike me, he had grown up in these woods and he was reluctant to leave. This was not because he was afraid of Mirkwood, but because he was fearful of leaving his home; separation from his family, who he valued so highly. There was no way he could ask our daughter to come along with us - he was too proud for that. But then, he did not once suggest I go alone. No, I daresay that did not even cross his mind. We who are bound follow the other wherever they go, be it across the world or even into Mandos, from one realm into the next.

"Are you sure you are okay with this? Are you sure you want to come with me?" I asked, for what was surely the three-thousandth time during our conversation.

"My love, my Lin, your body would be far easier to dispose of in that spider-infested forest," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, letting me know he was poking fun of me. His eyes twinkled and I pushed him away from my embrace playfully.

"Yours would too, you know," I reminded him.

"But I am a soldier, I have a sword," he reminded me. "Those spiders would not stand a chance." He pulled me back into his body and I leaned in and sighed. Our humor would carry us forward into our future, and although I felt temporarily relieved, I could not help but feel as though he was trying to be strong for my benefit, and that it would be harder on him than I wanted.

After this conversation with Cirvel, I then called on my daughter and her husband to inform them of our impending departure and to also offer young Nemir our talan. She gladly accepted, although she begged me to decline my new appointment:

"Grandmother, please remain here, I could not bear to see you leave," Nemir pleaded, clasping my hands in hers. "I will miss you terribly," she added earnestly.

"I know, little one," I murmured. "But you must visit me sometime," I urged attempting to bring this news round into something more positive. "You would be welcome to stay with your grandfather and I."

"I will, I will," she promised, kissing my cheek.

"And I will do my best to return to you whenever I can," I told her, gathering her into my embrace and holding her close. "I will never leave you, little jewel," I whispered into her ear, before pressing a kiss into her hair.

\----- 

The Queen, as she had threatened the day before, did indeed stop by to aid me in organizing our departure. She brought with her a small army of elves who had accompanied her on her journey from Mirkwood. My husband and I tried to help, but found we just got in the way of the organized precision of her men. We ended up just staring, admittedly openmouthed, as she orchestrated the group into packing everything I indicated into trunks, in order to be sent ahead of the travelling group.

"Your Majesty," my husband stammered, "how will we be able to thank you?" he asked.

"You can thank me by serving faithfully in our wood for many years," she answered easily, with a kind smile. My husband was a member of the Lórien guard, and it had already been decided that upon reaching Mirkwood he would join their army. It was an honor for him to be able to continue to serve.

"I will, my Queen," he answered earnestly. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles softly. As always, a little shiver travelled down my spine. Despite marriage for centuries, his touch never failed to thrill me as if it were still the first time.

I caught the queen watching my moment with my husband with a slightly forlorn expression. Clearly she missed her husband and rightly so: being with child was no leisurely stroll, especially without one's significant other. I made eye contact with Cirvel and raised my eyebrows, telling him silently to leave and help the Queen's men move our belongings. He caught the hint, (bless him) and made a move to help carry a trunk, saying, "Please, let me help," to a guardsman who was just making his way down the steps.

"You did not have to do that for my sake," Mirwen said. The queen was very observant and I told her so. She laughed. "Yes. Yes, I am." After musing for a moment, she added, "I suppose one has to be observant when one is queen. My people know and love me, but that is because I know and love each one of them in return. I worked hard when I was younger to be the best queen anyone could ask for. Dear Thranduil is a natural leader… I was afraid I would lag behind." She paused, took a deep breath and finished: "I no longer want to be the best queen there ever was. I merely want to be the best I can be. Sometimes that is more than enough. Otherwise, I fear I fail miserably."

"I think you are a marvelous queen," I complimented honestly. She had shown me more than enough in order for me to draw that conclusion.

"Yes, thank you. But you say that because you are working for me," she replied with a knowing smile.

"No, that is why I am working for you," I corrected.

Mirwen beamed.

\----- 

The day of our departure eventually dawned and, rather reluctantly, I rose to meet the rising sun. Cirvel was awake beside me already and as I stretched and yawned he chuckled to himself quietly.

"What?" I murmured softly, stifling another yawn.

"How long have we been married?" he asked with a little smirk.

"Maybe four, five centuries now?" I suggested. Secretly, I knew the exact answer. Three-hundred and ninety years, almost exactly to the day.

"Every day we have been married, you have woken up the same," he observed, turning onto his side and propping his head up on his hand. I turned my head to face his and smiled.

"How?" I asked, genuinely curious as to why he was so amused. He reached between our bodies and grasped my hand. I had known and loved this elf for many seasons, had been married to him for even longer, and yet his touch never seemed to fail to send a sharp tingle all over my body. He brought my hand to his lips and started, "First, you blink. Always three times, like you are giving your sleep three chances to leave before you charge head-on into your day. Then, you yawn and stretch, like you're breaking the enticing bonds that sleep had you tangled up in. And then, when you settle and realized that I am still here in our bed when you wake, your eyes flash and you smile, like you can remember all of the days I would wake you up with a kiss and we would make love." Cirvel said all of this while slowly, so slowly moving closer to me. As he spoke, I knew all of his words were true.

"You are right, my love," I replied. I placed my hand on his cheek and marveled at his beauty. How had I managed to snag one so wonderful as him?

"How am I so lucky to have you?" he asked after a quiet moment of holding me in his arms. "I love you," he whispered softly, and then he kissed me. I knew in that moment that if everything in my world was to fail or leave me, I would have him and that would be enough. That would be more than enough. He was my rock, my steadfast, and that was how we would survive: together.

"We must get out of bed," he said when our kiss tapered off.

"I do not want to though," I protested. I kissed his lips softly and for a moment I forgot that we were moving out of the forest, that we were needed, and we had to leave this bed, our bed.

"We have to," he pushed, though he didn't move; save just to pull me closer.

"We must…" I conceded. "Fine." I tried to move away, but he would not let me out of his embrace. "Cirvel, my love, you must let me go if we are ever to rise and meet the day," I reminded him, grazing the tips of my nails across his back, which made him shiver.

"I must let you go? You must let me go. Your legs are wrapped around mine," he answered, without missing a beat.

"They are?" I teased. "Oh, look at that. They are."

\----- 

The group was ready to leave. Some of the deployments were standing looking impatient in front of a cart full of the party's belongings, and others were tending to the horses. I clutched at my husband's hand as we walked to the party and mounted our horses. We had already said our goodbyes, had eaten a parting meal, and I had been pulled aside for a final private word with Galadriel.

She had kept her wisdom and advice brief:

"Do not fear that you will not prove your worth, for you will never fail if you believe in yourself and trust in what you believe in."

"Thank you my lady, I will remember that," I had replied, not entirely sure what to make of her cryptic advice. I was sure that as always there was something much deeper and more important than what remained floating on the surface.

As we spoke to our horses, asking them their favor in bearing us hence, I turned to look at Galadriel and the family that I was leaving behind. I knew that I would return, but not knowing when that would be frightened me… I hated to think that I did not know what would happen after this moment. I turned back to face my beloved husband and shared a long look with him. He nodded at me and mouthed, "Have faith, my love."

I did have faith. I know I did. I was just frightened that my faith would only get me so far.

\-----

The trip was stressful, wearying; unending at its worst and enjoyable, enlightening and fascinating at its best. Travel was slow going. I was Her Majesty's near constant companion, and we got to know each other quite well as the days wore on. Days were spent on horseback more or less in silence, with the occasional story to tell as they were recalled, song as the moment saw fit, or outburst from Dalahíl, an outspoken guard whom my dear husband seemed to be quite amused by. He would ride next to Dalahíl for hours on end, speaking and building an easy friendship with the considerably younger elf. I was just happy that Cirvel had found someone to speak with. Part of me had been worried that he would not adjust well, but I realized quickly that that had been a ridiculous thought. It made much more sense that I would be the less adaptable… Cirvel had always struck out and been the more adventurous of the two of us.

The nights were quite the opposite of the days. At night, a small fire was lit and camp was made, and while the horses rested, we would sit and talk. Stories were told, songs were sung, and as the days progressed my husband and I felt welcomed into the company and the camaraderie. Most of the guards already knew each other, and the queen was much beloved amongst them, but my husband and I were unknown variables amongst the collection of elves.

It was early in the morning of the fourteenth or fifteenth day that the Queen gasped, breaking the easy silence that had settled after another guard, Belvith, had brightly told us an amusing story about his daughter learning to walk and where the softest bits of earth were in Mirkwood.

"I can see the forest!" She pointed excitedly ahead of us and laughed jubilantly. She touched her not-yet-showing stomach and said in a sweet, motherly voice, "We are almost home, little one!"

Despite the clear day, I could not yet see what Mirwen could. She was with child, and as her body's own protection, all of her senses were enhanced. "I will trust your eyes, Mirwen," I called to her. "But my own can only see the surrounding, seemingly endless plains."

"My eyes can only see the rear end of Cirvel's horse!" piped up Dalahíl.

"Raise your eyes a little higher and you could see my rear end," Cirvel returned.

"I would prefer not to stare, you might tell my wife," Dalahíl replied without missing a beat.

"Who was brave enough to marry you?" Cirvel teased with a laugh.

"Now, children," Mirwen interrupted from the front.

"Do you think we will reach the woods by nightfall?" I asked Mirwen from my spot beside her. She turned to me and, with a small smile and bright eyes she responded,

"I certainly hope so." She fidgeted on her horse and frowned for a few moments, glancing down at her stomach. I held out a hand to touch her shoulder. She jolted, seeming unaware of my intention, and when she noticed, she beamed. "Thank you," she said softly, as she came out of herself and her thoughts. "The little one sensed my anxiety and was getting upset."

"I understand. It would be best that we press on and get you home soon," I suggested. Mirwen nodded and increased the pace of her horse. Like a flock of birds, the company increased pace along with her. She was the monarch, the leader. We would follow her anywhere.

Anor had long since begun its descent when we entered the border of the forest, and beneath the green canopy, it was very dark and murky- but yet not oppressing in its gloom. We rode through the darkness for a time, probably hours, with each one that rolled by seeming to stretch out longer than the one previous, before coming to the edges of civilization.

It started with a smattering of homes and families; slowly increasing in number as we neared what, I came to understand, was the epicenter of life in the forest. People came out to greet the queen and her company, and I realized exactly the extent of her kindness and truly how well loved she was. The palace was not actually entirely underground, as I had heard rumored in Lothlórien. There was actually quite a large structure aboveground. Based on what I could see, the interior of the palace would be massive and labyrinthine… a drastic change from what I was used to with the open-air system in Lothlórien. I could only hope I would not get lost too often!

Whilst I was thinking these daunting thoughts, out from a massive pair of wooden doors scampered a little elfling with long flaxen hair flying behind her. "Mama! Mama!" she called. Mirwen dismounted her horse quickly and the little girl flew right into her arms. Mirwen wrapped her up in her embrace and the mother-daughter pair laughed together. "Caralas, darling, I've missed you!" she said happily. Following the little girl walked none other than who I rightly assumed was King Thranduil himself. Caralas was the spitting image of her father, flaxen hair and sharply defined features, even in such a little face. When Thranduil reached his wife and daughter he wrapped them both up in his embrace and held them close.

"Welcome home, bess nín," he whispered, giving her a lingering kiss on her lips.

Mirwen beamed up at him and, holding her daughter close she said, "It's so good to be home at last."


	2. Acclimating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin and Cirvel adjust to their new home in Mirkwood.

T.A. 1119

It was sweet to see Mirwen and Thranduil interact, for they were totally in tune with each other, and as such they complimented each other perfectly in their differences. Had I not had my husband at my side for as long as I had, I might just have been overcome by envy.

Their daughter, Caralas, was a little ball of energy. She looked not even twenty years of age and stood to her father's waistline, but yet her presence and her loud childish voice certainly made sure that nobody forgot that she was there. She was the spitting image of her father – flaxen hair, big and brown eyes. She possessed features that were sharply defined, even at her young age, and soon enough she would be a beauty to behold, there was no doubt about that.

"Lin," Mirwen called to me. I approached and dipped into a curtsy to Thranduil. "This is my husband, as I am sure you know. Meleth nín, this is Aralin and her husband Cirvel of Lothlórien, both of whom are now in our service." Mirwen clung to her husband's arm, absolutely glowing with happiness. Thranduil, too, seemed happy, though I thought he stood a little too stiffly.

"It will be an honor to serve you, my king," I said formally, wishing to make a good impression on my now-master. A curt nod was his only response to me, his eyes keenly observing Cirvel and me. I did not like his scrutiny, found it extremely uncomfortable.

"I have been trying to tell her that the titles and formality are unnecessary," Mirwen interjected in explanation. I am sure she also meant to lighten the mood. The gossip was certainly true that the Elvenking was a distrustful being.

"Cirvel, my husband, will be a glad and worthy addition to your army," I continued, "and my own service will extend into whatever you need me to do."

"Lin is formerly of the service of the Lady Galadriel," Mirwen added. I was impressed to see that Thranduil did not frown – it was well known that his relations with Lothlórien were strained at best, and certainly not ideal. It was only his wife that had kept things civil between the two powers, and she acted as a bridge between her husband and The Golden Wood.

"We are glad of your service," Thranduil started, "we have much for you to do – both of you." He was polite enough, but he stood so stiffly that I wondered if he would break with the slightest gust of wind. He appeared to be extremely reserved, and while I had surmised from Mirwen's descriptions of him that Thranduil was a friendly and gentle man, he clearly did not trust my husband and me yet.

I had heard that the King was slow to trust, and knew I that unlike with his wife, I would have to work hard to earn his favor. I was a new subject in his realm, and for unknown foreigners, trust was a hard thing to come by. His apparent trust issues did not surprise me, especially because I would be working intimately with his family. He was a protective king and father, this I could tell already.

The guards had dispersed during our conversation and introduction, and when I turned I saw the stable hands were leading our mounts away. I turned and smiled at my husband and he took my hand, sensing that I was feeling much the same way as he was: lost and nervous.

Mirwen, Thranduil, and Caralas were stepping into the palace through the massive doors, and Cirvel and I dutifully followed. Mirwen was totally engrossed by her family and I could not blame her – I recalled the times that I had been away from my husband, especially during my pregnancy. I remembered that I could not last more than a few days without him, and poor Cirvel would return from the borders to be greeted by a tightly wound elf who'd been close to breaking point.

While the royal family progressed farther into the massive structure that they called their home, I hung back in the entrance hall with Cirvel, suddenly so uncomfortable in my own skin that I felt that I might become sick. Stomach unsettled and skin crawling, I felt as though the weight of the stone above me would press me into the floor, and I wanted out. Now.

"Lin, you do not feel well," Cirvel said suddenly. Through my bond to him I could feel that he felt the same way, though he did not quite want to voice it.

"I am fine," I murmured, trying to fight my way through the strong waves of discomfort. Uncomfortable silence reigned for a few minutes while we waited.

"We must discuss where we are going to live," he quietly spoke. Obviously he felt changing the subject might help me. It did not, but I answered anyway:

"I want to let the King and Queen have a few moments alone before we barrage them with questions," I replied, though honestly my reasons were that I felt suddenly overwhelmed by everything. The easy intimacy that travel had created was gone, and my new life suddenly loomed before me, terrifying and more strange than I had ever anticipated. Cirvel frowned.

"Are we going to stand here until someone comes for us?" he asked, an edge of frustration underlying his voice. I, not having any better plans, shrugged: my discomfort at being indoors was getting in the way of coherent thought.

"Yes?" I finally answered, though even to me it sounded like a question more than a solid response.

"Come with me, meleth nín. You look unwell and I do not like being indoors. We go back outside." It was not up for debate, we were going to go back outside, and Cirvel steered me that way with his firm arm wrapped around my waist. Dear elf, he never failed to protect me.

"But we have only been inside for a few minutes," I protested, though in vain, because with a firm grip I felt myself being tugged back out the doors. We walked to one side of the wide courtyard where there was a small flower garden, where lovely patches of pretty color juxtaposed against the stone walls. The air was warm with the impending summer and I let myself relax in the embrace of my husband, for Cirvel gathered me into his arms and held me close. My back was to his chest and we stood there peacefully for a few long moments and already I was forgetting how sick I had felt just a few minutes ago, when suddenly he broke the silence.

"I miss our home," he said tentatively. His breath tickled my ears, and I do not know if his words or his actions sent a shiver down my spine – for each was as influential as the other.

"I do too," I agreed. "This is a very different place." This was also a gross understatement.

"Yes… but I want this place to work," he replied softly. "This has been put into play for a reason, by our Lady, none the less," he rationalized, "and I will go along with whatever comes my way without complaint. But to you I cannot lie – I am afraid of this change," he admitted. He tightened his embrace and laid his forehead on the crown of my head. "I could never have anticipated such feelings and I am made uneasy by my own fear of this strange wood." I mumbled that I felt much the same, and together we stood in perfect silence until I heard Mirwen's call.

"Lin! Lin? Oh there you are, you disappeared!" she exclaimed. "I was momentarily afraid you had already started to scuttle back to the Golden Wood," she teased good-naturedly. Even having only spent mere minutes in her home, she looked so much more relaxed, and regal in her stature. "Welcome to your home!" she said enthusiastically, gesturing widely behind her at the palace.

"Where is it we will be living?" Cirvel asked tersely. Trust my husband to get straight to the point! I knew this was the issue about which he was most worried.

"Arrangements can be made for whatever you desire," Mirwen replied graciously. "What is it you want?" she asked.

"I would prefer to live outside of the palace," Cirvel said boldly. "In the open air," he added, a little less forcefully, having probably realized his tone of voice, and so adjusting them to lessen the potential impact of his words.

"That is understandable," Mirwen replied, "and of course such arrangements can be made." She smiled again and it seemed as if all my anxiety melted and floated off into nothingness. Everything would be fine, as long as Mirwen smiled. "If you would come inside, food is being prepared for us all," she said. "After our journey it will be nice to have a proper meal again." I thought she had been chatty before, but apparently that had been nothing, as in the comfort of her own home she slid into comfortable conversation with ease.

"Yes, it will," I agreed. At the mention of food, my stomach felt suddenly hollow, whereas before it had been uneasy. Although, I mused, perhaps I had just been hungry all this time. We followed Mirwen back inside the palace and this time, being prepared for the weight associated with such a huge structure, we were not overwhelmed. I could see relief inch its way onto my husband's face – he was very relieved that the feeling was merely temporary, and might get used to the weight.

"I will show you to a place where you may bathe and change into cleaner garments than those you are wearing. Someone will fetch you in an hour to be brought to our meal," Mirwen said. She led us down hallway after hallway and endless sloping staircases. I once again felt the pressure upon me the deeper that we walked, but I closed my eyes and breathed deeply for a moment or two and the pressure would subside. I could tell we were going very far underground, and the descent was not entirely an easy one.

"The feeling goes away entirely after a time," Mirwen spoke, noticing the difficulty my husband and I were experiencing. "It is not always so oppressive."

"That is good," Cirvel gritted, voicing my thoughts before I was able to.

"Yes, yes it is," I agreed quietly.

After one final steep descent we encountered a heavy-looking door, which Mirwen opened with apparent ease. After passing through and rounding one final bend, the three of us were hit by a wall of steamy, hot air. Clearly, there were hot springs ahead.

"These are not very well known, but they are a blessing to a sore traveler," Mirwen said, gesturing behind her. Candles and torches burned through the haze, dimly illuminating the space and lending it a very private and intimate atmosphere. We thanked Mirwen, who promised to have towels and clothing delivered within the hour. "And later," she added, "you are welcome to dine with us." I assumed she spoke of herself and her husband. "We will have plenty of food," she added, clearly she joined us in our wish to change our travelling diet. We promised to join her later and the beautiful queen left us to ourselves.

"Are you alright?" Cirvel asked when he turned to me. He clearly read the discomfort on my face, and he could sense my unease by the thoughts that rushed through my head.

"Yes, yes," I replied, waving his concern off with a raised hand, though not entirely certain if I was lying to myself or not. When he stepped closer to me, peering at me with an expression that clearly stated, 'I don't believe you', I rephrased. "I will be fine. Eventually."

Cirvel muttered, "Better," before stepping behind me to help me out of my dress. He lightly kissed one of my bare shoulders before undressing himself and slowly we eased ourselves into the steaming water.

"I do not begrudge my horse the long journey so much now that I am here," Cirvel mumbled, blissfully sinking in farther and laying his head back on one of the rocks that lined the edge of the pool.

"It is easy enough to forgive," I agreed absentmindedly, totally centered on the feeling of each and every one of my muscles relaxing one by one. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling every particle of the steam as it filled my lungs. Slowly, even my chest relaxed, my heartbeat slowing too. Were these waters medicinal?

Wordlessly, we scrubbed away two weeks' worth of accumulated grime from our travels and after a time we started to talk. Cirvel was the one who broke the silence.

"I had almost forgotten that we were here," Cirvel said softly, and as I remembered too I felt my world encroach a little nearer. I concentrated for a moment on sending that feeling away and it did a little. I found that if I imagined the sunlight and the wind in the trees, it was easier to bear.

"I had too," I replied. "The queen was quite right."

"Indeed," Cirvel said. I could tell from the time he was taking that he was thinking, and calculating his words.

"Please do not bottle up your words, love," I reminded him. He did this often enough that he knew exactly what I was opposing. Cirvel shrugged, and I watched rivulets of water trickle down his shoulders onto his chest.

"I am not bottling… much," he continued, mumbling, and clearly feeling guilty. "I am just worrying," he admitted softly.

"Worrying, about what?" I urged him. I was worrying too; I just didn't know what it was that occupied his mind at this moment, and whether it matched mine.

He took a deep breath – I think he liked the way the steam filled his lungs as much as I did – and said, "I am worried that we made the wrong decision. That already we had made our mistake long before we ever set foot in this place. That it is an irrevocable one that I will come to regret, and that I will never be able to fix." Deep in my heart, I knew that he was truly, deeply troubled by these words and I did my best to assuage his fears.

This was something I had been struggling with for the past few weeks, too. It had been because of me that we had embarked on this journey, and if it failed, ultimately, it would be my fault. The weight of that responsibility was extraordinarily heavy, and I could only hope that everything would work out well for us. Because, if not, I didn't think I could bear it, and certainly not alone. But I recalled Galadriel's wisdom and trusted her foresight, and that comforted me. I did my best to assuage Cirvel's fears:

"What has been set in motion cannot be undone, and nor would I want to undo them. I do not believe that either of us fully understands our purpose here, but we must trust that it will be great." My words mirrored what I believed the Lady Galadriel would say to Cirvel, and I wondered whether she was guiding my words from afar. "I love you, Cirvel, never forget that I am here alongside you to experience life with you." I feared that my own words were not good enough, but Cirvel, my darling husband, sought out my hands underwater and brought them up to his lips. He kissed each one of my knuckles and my entire body tingled at his contact.

"Thank you," he whispered. "What would I do without you?" he asked, genuinely turning over in his head the prospect of life without me. I considered the same, and I felt purely lost for a moment.

"Surely perish," I murmured, my words catching in my throat.

He claimed my mouth with a desperate kiss, and I felt as though he wanted this kiss to fix everything. It certainly went a long way toward revitalizing my body. I wrapped my entire body around his; every inch on his body was familiar to me, but every time our passions were aroused it was as if he were an entirely new being. My fingers sunk into his wet hair, and I tangled what had been a neat cascade of wet locks combed back upon his shoulders. His arms were wrapped around my middle, locking me in his embrace. His lips worked their deft magic upon me, and a sense of haziness slowly inched through my mind as surely as the steam drifted in this room. We were passion, we were love incarnate, and we needed each other desperately – and we needed a union of our souls to help us face what was to come ahead. Put in perspective, it had not been that long since we had last made love, but when our bodies did join and the lovemaking rhythm began I felt as if I had not experienced this for an eternity, and I wept for that absence.

Our union was brief but intense and as we clung to each other in the aftershocks, I felt so intimately connected to my husband that I better understood his fear, his resignations, and even the beginnings of his excitement. It was a new life ahead of us, one that we had total control over sculpting. Even though he felt uncomfortable right now, he already looked forward to his new position in the Mirkwood guard, as well as our new home. I knew that he would be sorting through my own emotions, which were very similar to his.

"I love you," he said fiercely, and pulling back, I saw fire in his eyes. "I will always love you."

"And I will always love you," I replied. I clung to him, and he supported me.

\----- 

Cirvel kissed my forehead once lightly and I knew that it was his way of saying that we should leave. I sighed and lamented the knowledge that our moment had ended, but knew that with Cirvel, there was never a moment like this one far away.

We exited the pool and the steam once again wrapped around our bodies, floating between us and invading our senses. There were towels stacked in a corner with clean clothes in a pile next to them, so we began to dry and clothe ourselves. For Cirvel, there were fitted breeches and a shirt that floated over his toned body; for me, a simple but beautiful dress. Cirvel picked up a comb perched beside the towels, and ran it through my hair before braiding it for me. I returned the favor, and while I was braiding, a young maid entered the chamber silently.

"I have come to take you to the King's chambers," she said, her voice echoing like tiny bells in the cavern. Without waiting to see if we were following, she turned on her heels and skipped away up the staircase. Cirvel and I, after sharing a bemused glance, hastened to follow the child.

She led us up to the ground level and up the staircases that we had previously descended, but after that point I recognized nothing further. We crossed the great hall to a sweeping carved and polished stone staircase and followed the girl up and up. Upon ascending two levels, she turned abruptly to the left and led us down the corridor. Up one final staircase, and we found ourselves in an octagonal room, facing a collection of doors arranged on each face of the wall.

"These are the royal apartments," she informed us, speaking for the first time since we left the hot springs. She explained that all of the rooms were connected by doors within the rooms and that the only ones currently occupied were two rooms, one for the King and Queen and one for their daughter, Caralas.

"Which ones are those?" I asked, and the girl pointed to two rooms to our left. From behind one door, I heard soft conversation, feminine laughter, and a child's high peal, and I assumed it was that door that we were heading toward.

"Thank you, little one," Cirvel said, placing his hand on her shoulder. We walked over to the door and opened it cautiously. We opened it just in time to see a utopian, familial scene. The Queen sat by the King, who held their daughter on his lap. He was teasing her and tickling her belly and Mirwen chuckled softly while their daughter squealed delightedly. The love and unity in that room made my heart ache for my own family back in Lórien.

Mirwen noticed our entrance and beckoned us in. "Come, have a seat," she invited warmly, smiling widely. It amazed me how easily Mirwen had transitioned back into what I could only assume was her usual self: any shadows on her brow had melted away; any worries had faded into nothingness. She and her family were situated on a very large, very comfortable looking couch and she gestured to the matching seating opposite. Cirvel and I sat and observed as effortlessly, a well-orchestrated collection of servant elves swooped into the room, bringing food for the five of us.

Mirwen gestured to the low table and offered the food and very gladly we all began to eat. The flavors of the food astonished my palette that was so used to the gentle savory spices and the flavors of the Golden Wood. The food exploded on my tongue, wrapping me up in its exotic flavors and tingling all the way down my throat as I swallowed. The berries were tart, the spices were sharp, and the food, overall, was absolutely delicious.

It was not a large or particularly extravagant meal, but it certainly was much more tasteful than what I cooked at home. Or perhaps, food was different here in Mirkwood – which was something I had not considered before. What was abnormal to us was totally normal to them, I realized – this was just one more thing that made this place different from our home.

After one bite, Cirvel exclaimed in raptures, "Lin, you must learn how to cook this food!" The look on his face was that of pure ecstasy, and seeing his reaction was thoroughly amusing, eliciting laughter from us all. Perhaps the food of Mirkwood was the way to Cirvel's heart, a previously unexplored path that I might enjoy charting.

It must have amused the King as well, because Thranduil noted, "Your husband has good taste! He may stay," he joked, and we all laughed.

"I trust that you found the hot springs to your taste?" Mirwen asked, once we had finished eating and had settled contentedly back into the couches. We assured her that they had been, and that the girl who had come to fetch us was a charming child. "Yes, Síthir is a bundle of energy. She is the daughter of Solchir and Thalador, who have long and faithfully served here," Mirwen told us. The onslaught of names had just started and I did my best to memorize those new people. I would need to put names to faces, of course, but I had a rather good memory for it.

"I look forward to working with them," I said conversationally, unsure of what else to say. This statement, although the queen made it genially, reminded me that I was, in fact, a servant too. Because I felt so much like a pampered guest this evening, it was strange to remember that I was here to work. But, I reminded myself, things were very different here. I wondered if anything would ever seem normal.

We conversed jovially until late in the night, when we were shown to a room down the hall where we could sleep. We were so exhausted that we collapsed without further discussion, and so it was not until the morning that I took a good look around the quarters to which we had been led. It was spacious and luxurious, filled with fine fabrics and a comfortable seating area. The theme of the room seemed to be centered around rubies, because the gems gilded the furniture and glittered from the light fixtures, and the fabrics around the room were lovely, deep reds. There were large windows filtering the early morning light, and a set of double-doors leading to what must be a balcony of sorts. I detangled myself from Cirvel's sleeping embrace and padded over to these doors, tugging them open. The sight of the forest nearly made me swoon; so beautiful was it in the golden glow of the rising sun. Leaning in the doorway, I let the sunlight bathe me while I watched my husband sleep with a smile on his face.

Maybe this was a weird, unusual, abnormal place. Maybe it was spider-infested and dark and absurdly mostly underground. Maybe I would forever be making comparisons to the lofty, golden forest home I had just left.

But maybe… maybe this could be home too. It would just take a little time.


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Legolas makes his grand debut.

T.A. 1120

Life in Mirkwood was easier than I thought it would be at the outset. What was at first unusual (the food, the mannerisms, the relaxed atmosphere, and the general lack of propriety) became so normal to me that, as the months wore on, I did not know how I had lived without it all for so long.

I had not known that my home would actually be so far away from home.

This thought really struck me one day when I went through all of my duties caring for Mirwen, that even though I missed my family in Lórien, I hadn't one thought of that forest longingly. I missed it, but I no longer longed for it. Was it that easy to uproot oneself? Was this what it felt like when going West? Although my parents had gone West many years ago, I had no immediate plans to do so, feeling still too attached to this land. However, if this transition had taught me anything, it was that I would go wherever the wind carried me without too much complaint.

Within a couple of weeks, Cirvel and I had built a new home together. It was a talan in one of the villages closer to the palace. It was a small talan, smaller than the one we had lived and raised our children in, but as it was just the two of us now, it was the perfect size. Mirwen had tried to press something grander in our direction, but we had staunchly refused.

In comparison to the talan we had in Lórien, it was more enclosed (the creatures ran a little more menacing here), and was much more secluded than what we had previously been used to. In Lórien, the giant mellyrn could house many families from top to bottom, and so one tree could easily house five or six telain with plenty of room for more. Our cozy, dark talan in Mirkwood felt more like home than home had ever felt, and never had I ever been happier in my life.

Our talan had everything we needed, separated into three distinct areas. There was our bedroom, closed off from the front, which housed a comfortable bed and plenty of open air. Thus far, we had decorated it sparsely, because the design of the room incorporated branches from our tree, and we found that beautiful enough. Cirvel loved the branches that jutted in and out of the room, because he would sit on them or toss his clothes on them at the end of the day; I enjoyed them because I could hang and dry our clean laundry.

Outside of our bedroom was a larger room that housed a sort of sitting room where we could relax (should we ever be home) and a small kitchen. We had beautifully carved and polished table where we ate breakfast together every morning, and the kitchen had plenty of space to work on. The two rooms flowed into each other seamlessly, and I was happy to feel as though I were living in absolute luxury.

This morning was no different from any of the others. We left home and made our way to the palace complex together. Cirvel left me at the gates to head toward the massive training fields where he had successfully proven himself a worthy trainer to the younger elves after a few months of careful scrutiny by the captains. It had taken him some time to adjust to the military styles of the wood elves, which he had explained as "somehow less graceful and yet more beautiful," than the Galadhrim's, but the difference in style he brought to Mirkwood were an asset.

After kissing Cirvel farewell, I headed into the palace and descended a few flights down to the kitchens, where I was to fetch breakfast for the royal family. I greeted the kitchen staff, who had fast become some of my favorite elves that worked in the palace. They were a collection of thirty or so workers, mostly women, who were all masters of their craft. It was their bread and meat that graced the tables of all the residents of the palace. They worked the hardest of any elves I have ever seen and I begged them to teach me their trade. They had obliged me, but only with much tittering and fluffing and reluctance of "divulging the Wood's secrets". They were teasing, of course, but I loved them for their devout loyalty. Everything I had brought home Cirvel had gone on to devour – I had never known him to be so enthusiastic about food! I had no doubt that this was how he'd warmed up to our new home.

The kitchen elves were in fine form this morning, buzzing away with knives and fire like a well-coordinated dance. I slipped into the kitchen and picked up the tray they always had prepared with tea and toast for the royal family, ready for me to take away.

"We are making a stew today that your husband is going to love," one of the ellith called from the fire, where she was stirring a large, steaming pot clearly full of the stew. I could smell it from across the room, and I had no doubt that it would be tasty.

"You tease me," I called merrily over my shoulder, whisking the laden tray back up the stairs. "I will return for your secrets later!" I threatened. I heard the laughter of the elves echo up the stairway behind me and I smiled to myself, so happy with not just my day, but my life. As I exited the kitchens laden with trays and could not help making more comparisons. Lórien's kitchens were housed in an open structure, like everything else in the Golden Wood. The elves were well organized and tightly run, putting on a front of absolute professionalism in front of guests, but often just as teasing and joking as the Mirkwood elves. I had often enjoyed walking to work with a young and spritely ellith named Celiel, who had brightened my mornings with her quiet sense of humor. Suddenly rather wistful and a little homesick for my old home and routine, I pushed forward and headed upstairs.

I ascended the many staircases that separated the royal apartments and me and briskly swept into Mirwen and Thranduil's chambers. Thranduil, it seemed, had risen early to do what Mirwen called "important royal fodder", and so it was only the queen I found this morning.

"Good morning, Mirwen," I said brightly, opening the curtains and letting the morning sun stream into the room. Mirwen, who had been resting with her eyes closed that night, sat up in bed and yawned greatly. She was rather far along with her pregnancy, due in two months' time, and so her belly was a great hindrance to her movement. These days, she slept with her eyes closed because of how physically taxing it was to be with child. I could only sympathize, for she appeared drained, despite how healthy she was.

"Good morning," the queen greeted groggily, blinking in the sunlight that filtered into the room.

"I trust you slept well?" I asked like I did every morning. We had our routine well-established by now.

"Not in the least. He is an exhausting child. He seems to choose the most inopportune moments to become very active," the queen complained. She often did complain about the tiny child, but she always said these things with a smile.

I set her tea and breakfast down on a table and then helped Mirwen rise from her bed. Her swollen abdomen preceded her wherever she stepped. I sat beside her while she ate, and I drank a cup of tea myself. We spoke of the usual topics: the cool weather, Thranduil's most recent gripes, the mischief Caralas was getting into, and the development of the young one. After Mirwen ate, I helped her dress for the day and walked with her through the halls, descending to ground level and passing into the receiving hall, which Mirwen jokingly had christened the "complaining hall", to sit next to Thranduil as he received the people of Mirkwood.

A collection of people had lined up as per usual, ready with their complaints or information for their monarchs about the surrounding forest. The queen took her place next to her husband and then I, being temporarily relieved from my duties, stepped lightly out of the hall after a nod from Mirwen. I headed, as I did most days, for the kitchens. It was there that I preferred to spend my time these days because there was ever-present movement within those walls that I found fascinating. I was also enamored with the fellowship that the elves had in that hot, fragrant room, and longed to become part of it. After all, we were all working for the king and queen, and so we could bond through our employment.

I descended the stone steps and, as earlier, a wave of heat was the first thing to greet me. When the elleth saw me, I found myself on the receiving end of their usual greetings.

"There is our fair-wooded friend!" called one.

"At least my wood is fair," I countered the elf, addressing a younger maid named Maithil, "your wood is infested by spiders!" The elves chuckled, but a few of them called their jeering responses. I waved their replies aside like I did not care at all, but within me my heart was fond of these games. Their fooling around with me meant that they saw me as one of their own, and it had not taken long to develop this behavior. They were oddly more trusting than the rest of the Wood, and a lot more trusting by far than the withdrawn types that could be found in Lothlórien.

This morning, I knew I had a couple of hours to spend while Mirwen was doing her queenly duties, so I inserted myself at a table and was handed a knife by another elf. In front of me, there was a large pile of vegetables that needed to be chopped and so I took a nearby potato from the pile and started to slice.

After a time we heard high-pitched shrieks and giggles and without any further warning, a dozen or so children burst through the doors and toppled into the kitchen, demanding snacks. The children were the sons and daughters of the kitchen elves and they very often appeared without any warning to hide or eat, and would often sweep in like a whirlwind and leave just as quickly. Some of their mothers would send them right back up the stairs, others threatened to put the children to work, and some actually did follow through, wordlessly handing them knives and pointing at a table. Some of the children (namely the older ones) actually enjoyed their temporary employment while others, I noticed, would quickly scamper away when their mothers had their backs turned.

In a flash, all of the children were gone again, back on their various adventures, and the kitchens returned to the normal buzz. I missed their diversions when they left, and always welcomed spending time with the little ones. They reminded me so much of my own child and grandchild – and not for the first time did I wish that they were here with me.

But no – they had their own adventures to be had. I could not force them to tag along on mine.

\-----

It was just as the last snows of winter were beginning to melt in the afternoon sun that news spread of the arrival of the young prince. As I well knew, having aided with the birth, the Queen's delivery was quick and as painless as one could hope, though the Queen had screamed a few choice words during the more painful bits. It was Thranduil who had borne the brunt of the verbal abuse, though he had endured it with a smile and a shrug.

"Last time was much worse. I suppose next time she might thank me!" he chuckled.

"Thank you?" Mirwen had gritted out indignantly through her teeth, "I am more likely to rip your ears from your head!" Panting and laden with sweat, she had sent him the most scathing look I had ever witnessed between the pair. "And who says there will be a next time, mister?" she hissed dramatically.

"I love you too, darling," Thranduil had replied cheerily. Nothing could bring him down on the birthing day of his first son.

When everything was finished, runners had been sent with the news throughout the forest, and things were again quiet in the royal chambers, Thranduil was nestled on the bed holding the baby, who was squawking the standard adorable baby noises. The young Legolas had the biggest blue eyes and adorable tufts of downy blonde hair, looking remarkably like his mother. Mirwen was dozing beside him and Caralas was sleeping soundly at the foot of their bed. She had been very excited about the whole affair, but had worn herself out rather quickly.

It was after nightfall that I was dismissed. I was standing in the doorway, observing the beautiful and peaceful scene in silence when I saw Thranduil tear his eyes away from little Legolas to give me a silent nod of thanks. With a nod of my own, I took my leave of the room. The family needed to be alone, and could call me should I be needed. The day had been long and wearying and I had every intention of going back to my home to relax with my husband. With the birth of the prince so prominent in my mind, I thought back to the day that my daughter had been born. It had been immediately apparent that Colnen had inherited her father's strong features but as she grew it was clear that she also shared my gentle nature. I smiled at the thought of the day, just three centuries before, when I had held my daughter for the first time.

It was late into the cold winter's night when I wandered home, taking my time as I walked down the main street. I enjoyed the way the chilly air rejuvenated me after such a long day. It was only a short distance I had to walk, as the village that Cirvel and I had taken up residence in was one of the villages in closer proximity to the palace. Many who worked in the palace but who enjoyed living out in the trees were our neighbors, including some of the kitchen staff I was so fond of. I regretted that I could not spend much time with them outside of the kitchens, except for some mornings, when we could walk together.

When I arrived at the foot of my talan, I looked up and saw my husband's feet dangling over the edge of the porch area and smiled to myself. This was something he did often enough, especially on clear nights such as this. He said that he enjoyed the company of the stars, and that theirs was enough to keep him until I returned. I ascended the ladder, and when my head poked through the trapdoor, I felt him kiss the crown of my head lightly.

"It is about time you returned," he said softly, his tone not at all accusatory. He graced me with a cheeky smile and patted the spot beside him. I sat gratefully and he stood to step inside. I did not have to wonder for very long what he was up to, because he returned shortly holding two steaming mugs of warm, spiced wine.

"Today was an exciting one," I started, knowing what an understatement it was.

"So I heard," Cirvel said. "The young prince's arrival is already being sung about," he added, and as his words registered, so did the soft noise of elven song coming from afar. I took a sip of my tea and rested my head on Cirvel's shoulder.

"There will be a festival soon," I informed him. "Within the week, I am sure." Cirvel slipped his arm around my shoulders and hugged me close to him. "Maybe this time you will not be quite so free with the Dorwinion," I teased, leaning back and giving him a wicked grin. At the festival for the Winter Solstice Cirvel had imbibed quite a lot, having gotten into something of a drinking contest with a few of the captains in the guard, and it had provided me with a great deal of fodder with which to tease him over the past few months.

"Lin, not that again!" he whined, nuzzling his nose into my shoulder. He was embarrassed, I knew that, but it did not stop me good-naturedly poking my elbow into his side. "I promise I will not."

"You are a liar, Cirvel, but I love you all the same." I kissed his cheek. We drank the rest of our wine and headed inside, where we burrowed under the soft, warm covers of our bed and slept fitfully in each other's arms until dawn.

\----- 

I was right, and within three days, a festival came into full swing. Everyone in the wood was gathered along the main streets leading to the palace and around the palace grounds to celebrate the arrival of the new Mirkwood prince. Food was plentiful, drink even more so, and music floated from all directions in the air. I knew full well that, even though it was rather impromptu, the celebration would last for days, and so I was soaking up the energy of the entire wood in one area. I had few duties with the Queen during the times of the celebrations, but I knew as soon as everything calmed down things would go back to normal. To be honest, I was looking forward to tending to the newborn child, as I had I missed holding a baby in my arms.

Cirvel and I had so far only attended two of the festivals that this wood so boasted of – the fall and winter fests – but I could tell this celebration of birth was going to be bigger and better than either of those. Bands of musicians carrying a collection of instruments played in every available empty spot, villagers could be seen dancing wherever I turned, and among the thick of it all Cirvel and I danced merrily in the chilled air.

The dances in Mirkwood were much more lively than those of Lórien, though the Galadhrim could throw quite the party when they wanted to. Barrels of Dorwinion stood on tables, where elves had tapped them, and it was this strong, heady wine that fueled the party. Cirvel and I swung around with the music, breaths fogging and mingling. We had clearly drank too much, for neither of us could wipe the silly grins off our faces.

We danced the Mirkwood dances and sang the Mirkwood songs as if we had always lived beneath its boughs. I had never felt so connected with the people and the forest as I did when I danced. I decided then, in the midst of the heat and celebration, that Cirvel and I would attend every festival from here onward. Letting loose and celebrating was simply too much fun to miss, I thought, the wine contributing significantly to my thought process.

Late into the night, or perhaps very early into the morning, when Cirvel and I could not dance any more, drink any more wine, or possibly fit any more food into our bellies, we stumbled home to our talan, giggling like young elves and drunkenly clutching at each other for balance. By some miracle, we both managed to make it up the ladder and into bed, fully clothed, before either of us succumbed to the exhaustion – or rather, the drunken tendency to pass out.

When we woke in the morning, neither of us was particularly interested in drinking ever again. Yet dutifully we showed up to the celebrations again and found ourselves sucked back into the grand festivities a second, and even a third time. When the last day of the festival arrived, Cirvel and I were content to sit and nurse our headaches while watching the young elves dance all day. Cirvel took my hand and intertwined our fingers, kissing the back of my hand lightly.

"What a forest… I think I could get used to it here," he mused. I agreed, though not too loudly.


	4. Infancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Legolas grows up, little by little, and gets into some trouble.

T.A. 1120

The sky was darkening outside, and I had a sleeping baby in my arms. He was dressed in the finest woolen garments, gently protected from the chill of the waning winter outside the palace walls. It was not difficult to admit that I had missed this, more than I had realized and more than I could have anticipated in the weeks leading up to the young prince's birth. Babies are such beautifully vulnerable creatures, and I realized as I cradled young, delicate Legolas that I had forgotten in the intervening years so much of what I had loved about my daughter and granddaughter when they were this age.

I turned from the window I was standing at and settled into a chair with the baby prince. I assumed the familiar position, crossed arms, one supporting the child's neck, the other arm wrapped under their back. He was sleeping and finally quiet – thank the stars. I swear I had never heard a child wail at such a level. Despite the unfortunate noise, the smells that the child emitted, and the tiresome hours I now had to keep to allow Mirwen and Thranduil some time to rest, I found myself becoming quite attached to the tiny being.

I had forgotten that babies smelled so nice. I had forgotten how soft their skin was. I had forgotten the little, contented sounds they made. And I had forgotten the way their ears wiggled a little every time they heard something new.

Soon enough, Mirwen entered the chamber, and in hushed tones we spoke for a time about Legolas and Caralas. Mirwen bade me goodnight and I delicately passed the infant into her arms, making a silent exit and heading wearily back to my husband.

When I approached my talan, I saw that he was sitting outside on our porch waiting for me. This made me smile:

"Thank you for waiting for me," I said happily, once I had ascended the ladder, depositing myself next to him. He took my hand and brushed a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

"I could not go forward without you anyway," Cirvel murmured. "It doesn't feel right. We are a team."

I laid my head on his shoulder and together we sat, until we felt ready enough to move on.

\----- 

"Miss Lin! Miss Lin! Make him stop!" Caralas whined shrilly from the door of her room.

"Caralas, babies cry for a reason, and I am doing all I can to figure out why he is," I tried to explain, though my logic did nothing to placate the young girl. She stormed back into the room and huffed around in a fury only a child could muster. Legolas was screaming again, and so I picked him up from his cot, gently singing and rocking him until he became quiet. He had only just eaten, so I knew that he was not hungry. Mentally I quickly ran through the list of possible causes for his upset. After a few minutes of being held, Legolas made his own intentions known; a foul smell wound its way up to my nose and he burbled a little and smiled a wide, toothless grin.

"Oh you, wicked princeling," I said, wrinkling my nose. Legolas giggled a little.

These days were stressful, I thought as I balanced Legolas on my hip and left the room. I cared for the children while the Queen was busy, and I cared for the Queen during the rest of the day. There had once been time in my day to relax, but now my time to relax was my time to sleep. Legolas seemed to be more demanding than my daughter had ever been.

He kept squawking shrilly while I straightened and cleaned, putting toys in baskets and putting dirtied dishes on trays to later return to the kitchen. With two young children around, the toys seemed to move out of their own volition. I would not be surprised if I looked up and saw them walking into the most inconvenient, hard-to-reach corners.

Caralas' tutor knocked on the door briskly and I admitted Eleniel as I did every day. "Good afternoon," she said kindly, touching the infant prince on the forehead and smiling at me. She was the perfect tutor for Caralas, whose mind had a tendency to wander rapidly and very far from the topic at hand. Eleniel was sweet but did not tolerate any nonsense, and I could tell that Caralas was very fond of the woman, despite any childish protests she might make. Eleniel, I had overheard, had been the tutor of many of the noblemen and women who now paced the halls. She was certainly a force to be reckoned with, and one of the wisest elves I had ever met.

After a few lines of pleasant conversation with Eleniel, I called for Caralas. She bounced out of her room at the sound of my call, but her look of glee melted off of her face when she saw her tutor there in the room with me.

"But Miss Lin – can I not attend my lessons later? I am in the middle of playing a game, and–" This was her daily excuse, and I did not know why she did not expect to see Eleniel here at the same time every day, or why she ever expected that excuse to work on me.

"Now, Caralas, you know better than to ask by now. Come along." Eleniel ushered the little blonde elfling out of the room and down the hallways to her private rooms. She had a sort of classroom set up with erasable boards and chalk for work on penmanship as well as a small library of books on history and etiquette for her lessons. I was thoroughly impressed, having been taught only by my mother when I was young. I wondered if Legolas would learn from Eleniel when he grew older; would he be a good student, patient like his mother or a little twitchy like his father? Caralas had certainly inherited her father's impatience.

The little body snuggled into my side was full of such possibility and potential. I only hoped he could meet and exceed those expectations – he was the crown prince, and as such he had a pair of very large, very loud shoes to fill.

\----- 

T.A. 1122

"Legolas, Legolas no! Get back here!" I nearly shouted at the babbling, giggling, and currently escaping toddler who was so adept at flying quickly and efficiently out of my reach. I knew young elfling toddlers were curious little beings, but I did not remember either Colnen or Nemir being quite this slippery. Legolas cackled and turned a corner, disappearing from sight.

"I swear I should have tied bells to his shoes," I muttered to myself crossly, increasing my pace.

I quickly caught up with the little escape artist and swept him up into my arms. Legolas let out a delighted squeal as he was suddenly hoisted into the air, and I promptly carried him back to the royal apartments, where we had been playing puzzle games together. He was an intelligent little being, and often I swore I could see thoughts sparkling to life behind his big, blue eyes. Legolas had long ago mastered the art of mobility, and speech was coming on quickly now, too.

I plonked him on the floor and settled myself behind him so he could play between my legs (I had discovered it was easier to prevent his escape attempts this way) and he immediately reached for his favorite toys – his blocks. "Bocks!" he proudly exclaimed, holding one out to me to show me what it was.

"Yes, darling, they are blocks!" I affirmed. Legolas grinned widely and went to work stacking them and arranging them. He screeched excitedly when the block towers fell over and always loved to start building them again. He entertained himself this way for quite a while, and after some time I rose from my place on the floor behind him to busy myself in other ways – folding clothes, putting away toys, straightening things that had become out of place, that kind of thing. Just as I was collecting blankets to be washed, I realized something was wrong – there was silence coming from the corner Legolas was in. I deposited the blankets in a chair and hurried over to him, praying that I wouldn't have to alert the palace to watch for an escaped child – again.

My worries were immediately assuaged when I saw a baby-sized ball of blond hair and silken robes asleep among his scattered, favored blocks. I knelt to gently gather the child into my arms and carried him into his room, where I set him in his cot. His eyes cracked open, and before the thought of defeat could cross my mind, he yawned, "Night night, Miss Lin," and, sticking his thumb into his mouth, he drifted off into dreams. I touched his blond head, running my fingers lightly through his soft hair, and deposited a light kiss on his little forehead. "Sleep well, Little Leaf," I whispered.

While this child wasn't mine, I knew I loved him as though he were. Thranduil and Mirwen were lucky parents indeed to have such a sweet baby.

Legolas usually slept for a few hours at a time (the child certainly wore himself out!) so I took advantage of the quiet to lie on the couch to rest for a while. The child wore me out, too. Caralas was playing with some of the other children in the Palace, no doubt getting into some kind of trouble, so I figured that a nap was not a bad idea.

I woke abruptly when I heard the latch on the primary door to the royal apartments snick open. I blinked several times rapidly and turned to face the doorway. To my surprise, my husband was coming into the room, wearing a broad smile. Happily, I threw myself up off the couch and into his arms.

"Cirvel!" I exclaimed cheerfully, belatedly remembering that there was a sleeping baby nearby. "What are you doing here?" I asked a little more quietly.

"My day was cut short by another trainer's wife going into labor. I dismissed the recruits and sent them home to their families. They deserve an afternoon off every once and a while," Cirvel explained. "And I thought that paying my wife a visit was the best way to spend the remainder of the day. I miss her when she works so hard," he added sweetly. I beamed up at him.

"I miss my husband, who never skips a practice," I countered teasingly, pressing a finger into the middle of his chest.

"I miss-" But whatever Cirvel was about to say was interrupted by the sounds of a certain toddler waking up from his nap.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips quickly. "Care to stay and help?" I asked, taking his hand and pulling him with me anyway, regardless of what his answer was going to be.

"I suppose I do not have a choice," he said, though I could tell he did not mind. He was such a softie for children.

I pushed open the door to Legolas' room and the little prince was standing on his bed, tiny fists gripping the bars of the cot. The noises he was making were not unhappy, but they certainly meant that he wanted to get out, but when he caught sight of Cirvel with me, he went silent. He surveyed Cirvel with curious suspicion and only made a small peep when I plucked him from the crib. "Say hello to Cirvel, Legolas," I prompted.

"Ceeva!" he babbled, attempting to repeat Cirvel's name. "Ceeva!" He giggled, and then buried his little blond head into my neck shyly.

"That's right!" I praised. Cirvel beamed; it was hard not to in the presence of such an adorably charismatic child. "What do you want to do, Legolas?" I asked him once we exited the room. "Do you want to play? Or read a book?" Legolas loved to pretend like he could read the words scrawled on the pages, babbling to himself like he was reading it aloud.

"Walk!" he squealed at us, wiggling around happily and squirming out of my arms to be let down.

"A walk sounds nice," I agreed, and Cirvel nodded too. We left the chambers and made our way down the corridors. Legolas told us along the way exactly what everything was by pointing and exclaiming, "door!", "wall!", "fire!". When he did not know, he would point at the object and ask, "This?"

The indecisive toddler was in an out of my arms. He would push in front of me, arms raised if he wanted up, and when he got sick of being carried, he attempted to throw himself to the floor, squealing, "Down!" I set him on the ground and he toddled along in front of us while Cirvel and I strolled hand-in-hand behind him at pace with the little monster. Legolas chose where he wanted to go, and only a few times did I have to tell Legolas to get out of rooms or to slow down. He would send me innocent glances whenever I warned him off of things, but I knew better than to fall for it.

Cirvel and I talked softly to ourselves while Legolas tottered in front, talking to himself and whoever happened to be passing by. He took us all the way to throne room, and since the doors were open I let him go in. No doubt he knew that this was where he could find his father and mother, and indeed, when he saw his father, his little body wiggled while he bounced and shouted "Ada!" He ran forward through the sparsely occupied room, and Thranduil, laughing, rose from his throne to kneel and let Legolas run into his arms. A collective "Aww!" echoed around the airy, high-ceilinged room. Cirvel and I stepped forward to speak softly with the King and Queen, who were both cooing to the babbling child.

"My apologies for the interruption," I said, bobbing a curtsy (mostly for propriety's sake in front of the crowd). "The little Prince insisted we were to come to see you both."

"That is well, for we were almost finished," Thranduil replied, his eyes twinkling merrily. It was nearly impossible now, after spending so much time around the King, to think back to the first few months of our residence in Mirkwood when I feared the King's suspicion of outsiders.

"He just had his nap," I informed Thranduil and Mirwen, "but he has not eaten for some time. I would be happy to take him down to the kitchens for a snack," I offered. But Thranduil shook his head.

"No, Lin," he insisted, "take your husband away and enjoy an afternoon to yourselves for once." To top it off, the King actually winked lewdly.

"Thank you, sir," Cirvel replied for the both of us while I rolled my eyes.

Enjoy it, we did.

\----- 

T.A. 1123

Legolas was happily playing in his toy-filled corner (he did have the entire room at his disposal, but the child preferred to keep isolated to one area, sequestering toys like a tiny blond-haired, blue-eyed squirrel.) While he played, these days, he would rather I stay out of his way or fix things he'd broken. It seemed I was just an extra body in the room, just waiting to do his bidding.

I was taking the quiet time to mend a few of Cirvel's shirts while Legolas was playing, and when I looked up to tell him that it was about time to eat his dinner, I spotted him happily walking around wearing one of his mother's slippers and one of his father's boots. He must have wandered into their room while I was not watching. The sight was so comical to me that I could not help but laugh, and Legolas, hearing me, toddled over happily, walking splay-legged and awkward in an attempt to keep the shoes on his tiny feet. Having made it to his destination, he proudly stood in front of me and said "Look at my shoes, Miss Lin!"

"What very nice shoes you are wearing!" I praised happily. "You're a very big boy now, Legolas."

He looked down at his feet and then back up at me and said proudly, "No! I'm little!" and beamed. "I'm Little Legolas!" And when he tried to march away, he immediately tripped out of his shoes.

Reaching, I picked him up and collected the shoes as well, suggesting that we return them to their rightful owners' room. Legolas, however, had a different idea, throwing himself at the shoes in my other hand and squealing, "Shoes! My shoes!"

"No, they're mommy and daddy's shoes," I insisted, tossing the shoes inside of their room and shutting the door quickly. Legolas screamed and tried to get to them, and when he realized that his effort was futile, he buried his little face in my shoulder and sobbed. I held him close and soothed him, and as he calmed down, I walked us to the kitchens. The child needed to get some food into him…

\----- 

T.A. 1126

Despite his progressively cleverer antics and the headaches that came along with them, I loved Legolas dearly. I had long since come to regard him as my child, my son, and he held a very special place in my heart. I knew that I was not his parent, but I had a very different role to play in his upbringing. This did not change the way my heart burst with pride when I watched him learn and grow. I counted myself lucky to have borne witness to his upbringing.

Legolas had pitched a fit after his midday meal, and so I sentenced him to quiet time alone in his room. Sometimes, when he was particularly moody, separation from me or other people was the best remedy for Legolas. What he did while he was locked in his room was irrelevant, and so when I went to fetch him from his room, I was not surprised to find him splayed on his stomach amongst his toys. He had little carved horses and warriors and he had requisitioned (well, stole) his sister's dolls to represent the enemy. Caralas' dolls stood as behemoths to his tiny carved figures, which were comparatively no taller than one of his fingers. He was moving them around and talking to himself beneath his breath, acting out whatever scene was playing in his head.

"Who is winning?" I asked conversationally, dropping down to sit beside him and reaching to pick up a doll that had fallen haphazardly onto its side. My fingers had only grazed the doll when Legolas suddenly screamed at the top of his voice:

"No!" He threw himself on top of the carved soldiers to supposedly protect them.

Shocked, I backed off immediately, snatching my arm back from the scene. "Little one, what is the matter?" I cried. Immediately, I began listing reasons why he might be reacting thusly, but my well of thoughts had run dry. He might have been misbehaving all day, but I thought a little quiet time would have remedied that – it usually did. Apparently I was wrong. I released the tension in my body and cautiously moved closer to him again.

"Don't touch them!" he screamed at me.

"But why?" I asked, very much taken aback.

"I don't want to play with you today," he whined moodily, furrowing his brow and sticking his lips out in a pout.

"Why not?" I inquired, a little hurt if I were to be honest. Legolas had never yet denied me anything, and though I knew it was coming, he was growing older and would begin to see me differently; I had hoped that day was long off. It hurt more than I could articulate that he might be slipping away from me already, and I panicked at the thought of it.

Legolas did not answer me, focusing on his toys. Again, I prompted him gently. He replied sullenly, "I just want father to play with me."

Shot through the heart, there was nothing worse that he could have said to me. I closed my eyes when I felt tears burn, and wished he hadn't said that. He was so little; he deserved to have his father spend more than a few cursory minutes with him. Mealtimes weren't enough, and Legolas was beginning to notice.

"Your father is very busy, my sweet," I finally said, hearing my voice crack. I did my best to hold it all in, for the last thing that Legolas needed was to see weakness in me. Although not his parent, I was his caregiver, and I had to remain strong for him, as well as present a united front with his mother and father. "But he loves you very much. I know that he wants to play with you." This was the best I could offer to a child so young as he, and that broke my heart.

"Then why doesn't he?" Legolas whined. Tears were now streaming freely down his cherub cheeks, and I gathered him into my arms. He allowed me to do so, curling up in my lap and sobbing into my shoulder. As I felt the tears soak the fabric of my dress, felt the way he trembled and shook, and listened to him struggle to take a breath, I felt like my heart would shatter. More than anything else, I wanted to fix this for him.

"We'll talk to him, I promise, Little Leaf," I soothed, praying that Thranduil would listen.


	5. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin and Cirvel receive a surprise visitor.

T.A. 1130

Thranduil had been gone for some time, out surveying the borders of the forest with his captains, and although Cirvel was no captain, he had gone along too, under the orders of his superior officers. He had been one of half a dozen to be chosen, and I should be happy for him. He was lucky.

I was happy for him. Really.

By the stars, it was hard without him. He had been gone a month already, and Mirwen and I were going crazy without Cirvel and Thranduil. Mirwen was taking it much harder than I, if only for the reason that she had to assume both halves of the monarchy.

I collected the breakfast and tea from the kitchens, greeting the ladies and asking if there was anything I could do to help (for occasionally there was), but they shooed me away without hesitation. Up in the royal apartments, Mirwen was already up with Caralas and Legolas, and looking as though she had been out of bed for quite some time. Thranduil did not often leave for this long, but the edging darkness at the borders was beginning to show itself more forcefully, moving in with increasing violence.

Legolas and Caralas were playing a sort of puzzle game in the corner of the room; a favorite of theirs (and often the only thing they could do together without fighting) and Mirwen was sitting at the large rectangular table we ate at, pouring over missives and other official fodder. She was bent over the table and rubbing her temples, giving me only a grateful murmur when I pressed a cup of steaming tea into her hands.

"Children," I called softly, dishing out bowls of fruit, toast, and juice for them. "Come here and eat your breakfast." The two bounded over and settled at the table, enthusiastically reaching for the proffered food.

"When will Father return?" Legolas asked through a mouthful of fruit, as he did every morning.

"Soon, my sweet," I answered, though I hated having to reply at all. Originally, they had been due back after a fortnight, but runners were quickly sent a few days after their departure that they would need to stay away for far longer than was originally anticipated. Mirwen and I lived in a cautious anticipation of the day they might return. And, bless him, at his young age Legolas had not been away from his father for so long, and the child felt his absence painfully.

"When is soon?" Legolas whined, "I want to show him the tower I built…" Indeed, the block tower was still standing in the corner of his room, where it had stood for at least a fortnight. Legolas was immensely proud of the structure that stood taller than he did. I recalled watching him dragging a stool over so he could reach, and finally finish it.

"They're just stupid blocks," Caralas said callously through a mouthful of buttered toast.

"Not true!" Legolas defended, "It's a strong fortress tower!"

The siblings continued to bicker until Mirwen looked up and demanded silence. "Children!" she snapped. "Take your disputes elsewhere!" The look she leveled upon her daughter and son would have silenced even the most unruly child, so I quickly ushered them away, muttering under my breath to be quiet or suffer the wrath of their father when he returned. They giggled, and scampered off into Legolas' room, slamming the door behind them.

"Any news?" I asked, referring to the runners Thranduil was fond of sending back with news of their progress.

"Nothing yet today," she replied wearily, "but the day is young yet." She rubbed her eyes, and added, "They should have been back by now…"

Interrupting our quiet conversation, there was a great crash and a wail, and Mirwen buried her head in her arms. Making an educated guess, the great tower had fallen. "Leave it to me," I insisted, placing a hand on Mirwen's arm to stop her from rising.

"Gladly," Mirwen muttered, sipping her tea.

\-----

Cirvel's return from the borders was an immense relief. I had begun to properly worry about Cirvel and the others – that they had gotten into some kind of real trouble. I worried when he was away from me… so very much.

He arrived late and weary, more than six weeks after his departure, and although he smelled as though he had not bathed once since he'd left, I jumped on him, incapable of remaining separate from him for one moment longer. I embraced him tightly and kissed him furiously, tearfully begging between kisses, "Don't ever leave me for so long!"

"Never again," Cirvel swore. We fell into one another, and before I knew it, clothes were strewn about and Cirvel and I were naked right there in the kitchen. With a little jump, I popped up on the counter and wrapped my legs around him tightly, and he pressed himself against me.

"I dreamed of you every night," Cirvel grunted, laying kisses all over my shoulders, neck and breasts. "It was agony to be away from you." I tilted my neck back, and he bit my collarbone and I nearly screamed.

"Cirvel…" I panted, my nails digging into his back, tightly holding him to me. It was an immense relief to have him home and in my arms again, and the passion aroused in us both soothed and ignited our souls. Soon, he was inside of me, and the joyful meeting of our bonded souls escalated the joining of our bodies, leaving me shuddering and Cirvel gasping.

When we were finished, Cirvel helped me off the counter, wryly noting, "Your behind is covered in flour, my love." He reached for me again, and pulled me roughly against him for another long, sweet kiss. I giggled, feeling as though I were drunk.

"Well, you are covered in filth," I laughed. "Come, love, let's go get you clean."

Together, we ran to the river, the moonlight lighting our path, and we took a long, languorous bath.

\----- 

T.A. 1135

The sun blazed in through the windows of our talan, waking Cirvel and I from our slumber and hastening in the day. I did not dread each morning when we went our separate ways any longer. No, since we had spent quite some time in the wood – it would soon be fifteen years, come summer! – we had become quite assimilated. Although I didn't consider myself a Mirkwood wood elf yet, this certainly felt so much like home.

My head was resting on Cirvel's chest, just as we had fallen asleep the night before. The springtime ushered in all kinds of urges, (not the least of which meant an exceptional amount of intimacy, and believe me when I say that he is exceptional…) No, this morning was not atypical at all. I ran my hands over his body and he shivered. I giggled softly, still unable some days to believe how I became so lucky to have married him. He was simply too marvelous for me.

"I know what you are thinking, and you are very wrong about it," Cirvel's sleepy husky voice interrupted my thoughts. He gave me a look that plainly said 'stop that' and I raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know what I was thinking?" I asked dubiously (though after almost four centuries of marriage to him, I was sure he did know).

"Because you are looking at me like I am unreal," he said (correctly, darn him), "and I am telling you to stop it," he added.

"I was thinking no such thing!" I lied blithely. He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, alright, I was, but I just do not understand why on Earth you chose me of all people," I said to him honestly.

"I knew the moment I saw you that you were the one for me, who would take care of me, and who I would always take care of," he answered sincerely. A vision of a certain elf standing in a doorway completely soaked to the bone floated to the surface of my memory. The day he had quite literally stumbled into my life.

Momentarily speechless I finally replied, "I love you. Just in case you did not know." I smiled sheepishly at him and laid my head back down on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tightly to him. "I love you too, Lin."

We remained entwined like that, determined to fight off the impending day in each others' arms, until we heard a soft knock on the door of our talan. I looked toward the front room and then up at my husband in confusion. "Are we expecting anyone?" I asked him.

"No. I do not know anyone who would come knocking this early," he replied, just as puzzled. We both rose from bed and threw on the first items of clothing we could find. Cirvel was first to the door, and he pulled it open only to be nearly bowled over by a little body running past him and straight to me.

The young Legolas, who was now nearly as tall as my chest, ran into me with full force, nearly knocking me off my feet. "Miss Lin!" he all but wailed, pressing himself into my chest.

"Whatever is the matter, Legolas?" I asked, sharing a glance with Cirvel over his blond head. Cirvel shrugged and stepped out into the kitchen presumably to make something for breakfast – I was starving.

"It - it's," sniffle, "Caralas, sh-she," sniffle, "she was m-mean to me!" he wailed. Ah, the older sister's torment.

"What did Caralas say to you to make you so upset?" I asked Legolas, who was still clingingly firmly into my front. I could tell that Cirvel was very amused by all of this by the way his eyes sparkled when I caught his eye. I shrugged a shoulder subtly and he went back to slicing the fruit for our breakfast.

Muffled, I heard Legolas' reply: "S-she told m-me that I would never be a good ar-archer. S-she said that I would be a b-baby forever-r!" he wailed, burying his face deeper into my side.

"Oh, shhhh," I cooed softly, stroking his head. "Caralas was just saying those things to gain a reaction out of you, Little Leaf," I told him. "And you gave it to her, you realize that, right?" I asked. Legolas looked up at me then, his big blue eyes unashamedly watery, and he frowned a little.

"But why would she do that? It is very mean," he asked. Logic, for one as little as he was, was a tough thing to comprehend. But indeed, after his father, he possessed it, even at such a young age.

"Yes, but you cannot blame her for being mean to you when you are so often mean to her, you know," I reminded him. "Must I list how often you annoy her?"

Legolas pushed away from me, his sob-story face melting right off. "No," he said quickly, wiping his eyes with his sleeves and flashing me his classically devious smile. Crisis averted, I pushed him into the kitchen, and pointed to a chair. "Sit," I instructed.

"Do your mother and father know that you are here?" I asked, though I had a strong feeling I already knew the answer.

"Um… no," Legolas confirmed my suspicion. "Caralas and I were playing while they were still in bed," he explained.

"Do you not think that they might be worried if they find you not at home?" I prompted. He paused, mulling over his answer for a moment, his little face screwed up in concentration.

"Maybe…" he said slowly. Clearly, this was as much of a conclusion as I was going to get out of him.

"Yes, they will," I answered for him. "Now, you will see me soon enough. Run along home, I will follow later," I instructed. Legolas leapt from his chair and accepted a roll that Cirvel had offered him. He threw his arms around me in a quick hug, said "Bye, Mr Cirvel! Bye Miss Lin!" hastily, and scrambled over the edge of our talan. Before I could get a word out, his little blond head stuck up over the edge again.

"Will you tell Ada and Ata about this?" he asked a little worriedly.

"You know I will have to. Don't do it again," I warned, though I had every faith that he would. I only hoped it would not be too often. Legolas groaned.

"But Miss Lin!" he whined in protest. He pouted and, had he not been on a ladder, he would have probably stomped his feet.

"No," I said firmly. "Now run along, I do not want to hear it," I ordered. Legolas huffed and resumed his descent. We could hear fading noises him huffing and whining, and both Cirvel and I chuckled. We settled at the table, and Cirvel set the fruit and bread in the middle of the table. We both happily tucked into our breakfast.

"I do not miss the whining at all," Cirvel said, and his thoughts, like mine, were of our daughter Colnen when she was Legolas' age. "Though I do miss her," he admitted. I nodded, having few words to add to this statement. I missed our daughter and her family more than I could explain. "I love it here in Mirkwood, but I wish that it was a little closer to home," he continued.

"Home… but this is home," I mused aloud.


	6. Summer Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer storms come sweeping into Mirkwood, making Lin remember how she met her husband.

T.A. 1135

Cirvel was growing increasingly more sullen as of late. At first, he denied it, pasting a smile over a frown. "It's nothing, my love," he would say, and he would pull me into his arms, holding me close. I noticed it in the mornings, in particular, when I would rouse and see him staring unseeingly at the ceiling or outside watching Anor rise alone. I worried about him, but I knew that he would come to me if he were truly unhappy. I did not want to meddle in every aspect of his life; even though we were married and bound to one another, we spent our days apart. He was bound to have drama in his own life that I didn't know about, just as I had it in my life.

One day, I could not stand letting him stew in it any longer. I slipped out of the palace early and went home to make his favorite soup, an old recipe of my mother's, and fresh bread. When he would come home, it'd be ready for him, and we'd talk. It made me think of the early days of our relationship, of how silly I had been, and of a summer of endless rain…

\-----

T.A. 729

The day was going extraordinarily well, if one considered oversleeping, being rained on, having the slipperiest of slippery fingers, and burning the bread in the oven (twice). Needless to say, I was not exactly thrilled with the day's prospects by around noon.

I had left my talan that morning in a hurry without breakfast, having overslept because of a night spent out and about too late, and having absentmindedly burned the loaves of bread that I was planning on eating later. I observed with an increasingly dropping stomach the close, warm air, so indicative of an incoming storm, upon leaving my home. I was not halfway through the network of telain that the Lady occupied when the heavens opened up and began to weep. My feeble attempts at staying dry failed miserably and so I continued stubbornly onward towards the Lady's talan, seeking the refuge of the telain there. The mellyrn trees were tall and the canopy wide, but the rain still fell through the branches to nourish the fauna below.

I ascended the steps to Galadriel's talan cautiously, slipping a few times on the highly polished wood and when I slipped right into a puddle on the stairs, I nearly gave it up and accepted this as a bad day. I considered stumbling home, lighting a fire, and spending the rest of the day curled under blankets and praying I would not succumb to any kind of illness. I knew that an illness would not afflict me for long – my elven body would heal itself quickly – but spending day of losing my voice and battling a dripping nose were not at all high on my priority list.

Eventually, though, I made it to work. I went first to the room where the laundry was done, to see if I could beg a towel to dry off with before presenting myself to the Lady. I reached the top of the stairs, slipped, and tumbled – quite literally – into Melda, a strong and silvery elf, and a friend of my mother's. Melda caught me by the arm I had flung out to steady myself and set me straight on my feet on the threshold, where I began to drip enough water to have the room ankle-deep.

"Thank you, Melda," I said gratefully, rubbing my arm where she had grabbed it. Melda responded by throwing a towel at me from a basket and grunting in a rather unladylike way.

"It is a little bit wet outside, is it not?" I tried, while I attempted to pat myself dry. Melda was usually significantly more talkative, and I worried that she had not begun to chatter as she usually did. "Melda? What is wrong?" I asked cautiously, stepping farther into the room. Melda had resumed folding dried linens, which was what she had been doing when I had fallen into the room.

"It is my daughter Meldiriel," she responded softly, "she is due to have her baby soon and this waiting around is doing me no good." With a flourish, she tossed me another towel, which I gladly accepted since I was still dripping a little.

"Melda, go home," I urged her. "I can do that for you, the Lady will not miss me for a day," I assured. Melda set her hands down on the edge of the basket containing the linens waiting to be folded and gave me a long look. She was strong and brusque, and had worked here as long as I had ever known her. I knew her daughter as well, for she often came to help, and her daughter had inherited much of Melda's sharply defined looks. She was not as abrupt as her mother though, and as fond as I was of Melda, it was a relief to see Meldiriel in the corner, softly singing to herself.

"No," Melda sighed after a moment. "No, I cannot ask that of you. I have asked Sirlith's son to run here with a message if Meldiriel needs me. I would be making a wreck of my daughter's home if I were there!" She laughed to herself, probably imagining what havoc she would wreak.

"You are making a wreck here instead?" I teased her.

"Have you gone blind? These linens have been folded perfectly," she snapped with the twinkle back in her eye. Ah, that was the Melda I knew. I thanked her for the towels and made my way farther up the tree to the Lady's rooms.

I was a lady-in-wait to the Lady Galadriel, one of six lucky elves to spend their days in the company of the Lady of the Wood. We kept her company and we did whatever she asked of us. At less than a century of age, I was the youngest of the women, and that meant that I was the one the more menial of tasks were deferred to. When I entered the Lady's room, I observed the Galadriel sitting in her favorite chair, four of the other ladies surrounding her, and the last entered the room soon after with a pitcher of water. The Lady was holding a quiet conversation with her closest companion, an elf named Miluiel, who was nearly as old as the Lady was herself. Miluiel was friendly enough, but had high aspirations and even higher standards. Standards which I apparently still fell short of.

I did not want to interrupt their conversation, and so I went about straightening the rooms. There were elves who would come around to clean, but the Lady preferred them to not do so more often than absolutely necessary. Galadriel certainly preferred her privacy.

I removed a vase filled with wildflowers from a shelf to replace the flowers that were looking a tad weary, when suddenly I felt the vase slip from my grip. I dove to catch it, but was too late. The tinkling sound of shattering pottery seemed to echo forever around the room, and I felt a dozen eyes snap in my direction. Miluiel opened her mouth to, as I can assume, berate me, but a gentle hand on her arm by the Lady stopped her.

"I'm sorry," I spluttered, sinking to the ground and gathering up the broken pieces. I felt tears sting my eyes. What a day I was having… That vase was probably older than I was.

"It is no matter," the Lady said softly to me, "I did not like that particular vase very much anyway." She then graced me with a smile that nearly banished every dark thought and every bad emotion of my day. I saw her eyes flash in an unusual way, and I knew she was experiencing some amount of foresight. "Please, Aralin. Do not worry about the mess. I must ask you to instead to take the dirty linens and towels to the laundresses."

"Yes, my Lady," I muttered quietly. Not wanting to question whatever she had seen about me, I replaced the broken pieces on the floor and stood to retrieve the basket of dirty laundry. I hefted the woven basket into my arms and retraced my steps to see Melda again, hoping that she was a little happier. I wound my way through the trees still being dripped on despite the roof structure that covered the walkways. The rain was still falling quite hard. Early as the summer was, I sensed that we would be experiencing a lot more rain than usual this season, if today were anything to go by.

"Aralin! You are back so soon?" Melda exclaimed with a smile. In the room with her this time were several other elves working hard on the washing over steaming barrels of water. Clean laundry was hanging up already, though I surmised it would be a while before it would be dry in today's wet environment.

"Yes, Melda, I have returned," I said, heaving the large basket onto a table already full of others' baskets to be cleaned. "The Lady asked me to bring this to you," I said, gesturing to the basket.

"No doubt she has some kind of ulterior motive," Melda commented wisely. I nodded my agreement. Galadriel does not usually send me on errands like these, but even if I never knew her motivation, I was grateful to be out of that room and far from the gazes of the ladies.

"Doesn't she always?" I asked. Not wanting to return just yet to suffer under the stare of the terrifying Miluiel, I offered my help to Melda.

"Just as long as you fold correctly," she said, leveling a look at me that plainly said 'I will not refold your shoddy work'. I laughed and promised to do so exactly as she had taught me.

For a short few hours, I thoroughly enjoyed myself in that steamy, overheated room, being dripped on by the ever-growing collection of drying laundry and regularly sweeping the water that escaped to the floor out of the door. I did not want to have to return, but I figured that I should go to the Lady and see what else needed to be done. I was thanking the other women for their company and was about to leave when the door suddenly slammed open. A sodden and bedraggled elf tumbled into the room, much in the same way that I had earlier that morning.

Melda took one look at the elf and exclaimed, "Oh!" and hurriedly replaced the tunic that she was folding into the basket of dry clothes. "Cirvel, is it Meldiriel?" she pressed, running to him and dragging him into the room. He struggled to catch his breath, but seemingly could not yet form any words, so he merely nodded. He straightened a moment later and managed to get out, "Just… started… Mel needs… you now." He then hunched back over, hands on knees and was subsequently knocked to the ground by Melda barreling out the door and running down the stairs and out of sight. I thought I heard her saying frantically, "I never should have come today!"

It was a funny sight, this wet and exhausted messenger, but I felt a little sorry for him. Thinking twice about leaving now, I grabbed a wooden chair from a corner and dragged it over to him. "Here," I offered, a little lamely. "Please, sit."

"Thank you," huffed the elf gratefully, hauling himself up into the chair. "I am forever in your debt." He flashed a smile at me, and though I hated to admit it, I went rather weak at the knees. His smile was simply devastating. Pushing through my girly thoughts, I went over to the pile of towels that Melda had previously folded and handed one of them to him, too. He shook his head. "No, I have to go back out into the storm anyway," he said with another wry smile, "It would be a waste of a beautifully folded towel." I smiled and absentmindedly tossed the towel onto a nearby table.

"At least stay until you have caught your breath," I encouraged. I embarrassingly found myself immediately attracted to this elf, and by the stars, I didn't want him to leave me. Ever.

"I will certainly do so," he said, though to my dismay he seemed to have recovered already.

"Melda lives rather close," I commented, having sought something else to say and come up dry. It was hard, because I was lost for words. Never had I felt like this before!

"Yes, she does, though her daughter does not. And those stairs are no easy climb at a sprint…" he complained conversationally.

"They're no easier at a slower pace, I assure you!" I replied with a snort. I then realized what I had done, and my eyes widened. I turned away from him and closed my eyes in embarrassment. I could not believe that I had gone and done something so unladylike… it was just my luck today, too! I was making a total fool out of myself. I only turned around and surfaced from my unhappy thoughts when I heard him snigger.

"What?" I demanded, hands now on my hips, attempting to mask my embarrassment with mock anger.

"You," he replied without missing a beat, "are ridiculous."

"What?" I replied, shocked and rather wounded at his observation. I was not ridiculous…

"Yes, you are. Would you like to come with me to Meldiriel's?" he asked, standing up out of the chair and offering his arm.

"I… uh…" I started to say, but then a voice being spoken into my thoughts interrupted my words.

'Go with him,' the Lady's voice echoed through my mind.

"I would love to," I said, wondering what devices the Lady was up to. I was not going to complain – the last thing I wanted to do was return to the room full of ladies-in-wait to break something else ancient and expensive. So I took his arm and out into the rain we went.

"So, uh, what is your name?" I asked lamely, hating every word of my question. I recalled that Melda had said his name earlier, but what it was I couldn't recall…

"I will only say if you tell me your name," he replied smoothly. We reached the edge of the roofed staircases and hesitated for a moment under the shelter.

"Well, we are already wet I suppose," I said, touching the mildly damp folds of my skirt. "Perhaps the rain will let up soon," I said, not really believing my words.

"Perhaps, let's go!" he said jovially, offering his arm to me. We stepped into the rain and I was soon drenched, though this time it was not so bad with this elf at my side being charming and handsome to distract me. I silently took the chance to observe him. His hair was fair as many Lórien elves' are, though darkened by the water and curling slightly at the ends. He wore no article of clothing which betrayed his occupation, and I briefly wondered at what he did during his days. Through his shirt, I could feel the muscles in his arm, and as they were strong, I surmised that he was a guard of some sort. I could tell he was young, probably not much older than me, for the sparkle of youth still shone in his eyes, and the recent memories of the last war did not did not show in them.

"Tell me your name," he persisted as we walked, "I must know it." I looked up at him, and got distracted by his lips, and strong jawline.

"My name is Lin," I replied simply, for lack of anything better to say. I longed to be more conversational, but words were lost upon me.

"Cirvel," he said then, smiling as if he had acquired a secret.

We walked for a time, sharing quiet conversations about nothing particular and yet everything. We spoke of our parents, of our work (he was a guard, a border guard), of our passions. When we arrived at Meladriel's talan and ascended the steps, where half a dozen happy faces, and one screaming baby, greeted us. We offered our congratulations and spent some time with the family, drinking celebratory wine and eating a meal with them – they insisted – before leaving again and heading back in the direction that we had come. Luckily, the rain was falling lighter now, and the mellyrn leaves caught most of the rain at the canopy level, dripping only the excess down onto us.

Emboldened by the wine and genuinely curious, I asked, "Cirvel, why did you ask me to come with you?"

"I wanted company," he answered, though I could tell it was clearly an evasion – he had more to tell me, and I wanted to know what it was.

"And?" I prompted. "Why else? That cannot just be it." I was becoming bolder in my questioning, which was unusual for me.

Cirvel did not answer, and I could not tell why he was suddenly struck dumb. His silence was contagious and I found myself lapsing into it too, until we arrived at the crossroads near where my talan was. I told him so, and I let go of his arm to head in that direction. He snatched my hand up before I could leave, though, and kissed my knuckles gently.

"I could not bear to leave you," he said quietly.

My heart skipped a beat, my whole body froze, and my mind went blank, except for one repeating thought, 'By the stars…'

By the time I regained control of my mental functions and I was about to point out that he was leaving me right now, I realized that he had given me my answer.

By the time I had processed that, he had turned to run and was long gone.

\----- 

I did not see Cirvel for some time after that and soon it almost seemed as if I had dreamed him up. I was embarrassed of my attraction to him and mortified by how open I had been with him – I could not believe some of the liberties I had taken, asking him those very personal questions, pressing close to him when he had offered me his arm... no doubt it was better if I never saw him again. If he really existed, of course.

Though while my mind insisted I be rational – no doubt I drove him away – my heart yearned to see him again.

It was on one warm summer evening that I was walking the familiar paths when I felt his presence nearby. I increased my pace, not quite sure if I was ready to see him, let alone talk with him. I would probably descend into a blubbering mess, and embarrass myself again. Either that or I would spout indecorous questions like last time, and I felt my cheeks flush at the thought of it.

I stood at the foot of my steps and tried to relax my guard a little, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I hadn't been aware that I was holding my breath, but tension indeed thrummed through my body.

I had my foot poised to ascend up to my talan when I heard him shout: "Ah, Lin!" Immediately, the breath whooshed out of my body and the tension increased tenfold. I replaced my foot on the ground and turned to face the elf jogging toward me. I immediately began searching for something to say.

"Tell me, do you ever simply walk anywhere?" I asked him, harsher than I had meant it to sound, as he came to rest in front of me.

"I've been looking for you," he replied, and though he had stopped, he still hopped from foot to foot with a restless energy. It positively hummed in the air around him, and I found it very difficult to resist the pull I felt towards him. Coherent thought fled my mind – ugh!

"Why would you be looking for me?" I asked, a little flabbergasted and letting my last question go.

Cirvel frowned a little in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be looking for you?" he asked innocently, perfectly evading my questions again.

I became impatient. "I couldn't tell you, so please inform me. But be quick about it, it is probably going to rain again," I said, turning my eyes to the sky and noting the darkening clouds.

"A little water doesn't bother me," he shrugged. "And anyway, the rain seems to like us." He smiled, alluding to the last time we had spoken.

Annoyed with his evasions, I went with my indecorous mood of the moment and snapped, "Well I do not like the rain, so please either say what you want to say or leave me be. I am hungry and tired and would like nothing more than to sit down with a hot meal." Immediately I regretted my harsh words when I saw that they hit their mark. Cirvel's face fell. I felt like such an idiot, totally on edge because of my nerves around him. And because I was annoyed with myself, I chose to take it out on him like a child would.

"If you do not want to see me, I will take my leave, then." He sighed and turned to leave, just as I had asked him to. He had already retreated two-dozen paces before I felt my anger melt away entirely, replaced with something that had a lot more compassion, and a hint of embarrassment.

Softening, I called to him, "Have you had anything to eat yet, Cirvel?"

He turned around, though didn't step back toward me. "No," he responded hesitantly. I did indeed want to spend some time with him. I had not forgotten how much I had enjoyed our last meeting.

"Would you like some dinner?" I offered. "I have some bread and soup upstairs." I gestured to my talan above me.

His mood lifted. "You won't throw it at me, will you?" he asked, stepping back toward me. I laughed nervously. I only hoped I could keep myself together for long enough to impress him (how I longed to do so) and not make a total fool of myself in the process.

"Not unless you deserve it," I promised.

"Oh, good then," he said brightly. He let me lead the way up, staying close behind me the whole way.

"Where have you been?" I asked, once we were inside. What had kept him away from me, if he so wanted to spend time with me?

"Out on patrol," he answered offhandedly. He was working his way around my home, examining my trinkets and possessions. He seemed particularly pleased with my modest collection of books. "There is not much to do out at the border at the moment. But I am home now," he added, tossing a smile in my direction.

And indeed, standing in the middle of my floor, he looked like he was home. He seemed very comfortable indeed, and I was quite happy to have him here for a while.

Immediately shying away from that thought, I put a loaf of bread and a pat of butter on my small table and offered it to him. He ate while I lit the fire and began to warm up the soup. "The soup is my mother's recipe," I offhandedly explained while munching on a piece of bread myself. I noted it was a bit stale and wished that I had had time to make more, but how could I have known that an elf would show up at the foot of my tree tonight?

"I am sure it will be delicious," he said graciously. He stood to walk over to peek into the pot while I stirred.

"It is," I assured him, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing behind me. I was not sure what to do about it, having never had any kind of intimate relationship with anyone before, and so I did my best to ignore him.

The soup was soon warm and I ladled some of it into bowls for us and set them on the table. "Tell me," I said when we had both sat down, "what do you do to entertain yourself when out at the border? Surely there are not creatures to battle all the time." I was searching desperately for conversation here, and this was the best I could come up with.

"Well, mostly we have to entertain ourselves," he replied softly, "because we are often alone and need to be quiet. But we talk, brag, fight when we can."

"Sounds boring," I said, buttering some of the bread. He nodded bleakly.

"Yes, it is… but I am rather new to all of it. I have heard that it gets easier to be so alone." He offered me a hopeful smile, and I found myself wishing for him that it would get easier. Looking back, I did not see the meaning in what he said… he was hopeful to not be alone.

"It is nice to be alone sometimes," I commented, thinking fondly of the times when I would spend hours around my talan, cleaning, reading, or cooking. Eventually, though, the solitude did wear on me, especially in the winter months; the cold air, long nights, and gray world did indeed beg for some kind of companionship.

"It is also nice to have someone to spend your days with," Cirvel replied softly, his voice dropping in pitch. The words were layered with meaning, and my interpretation narrowed only when he added, "Or your nights."

I blushed, I couldn't help it. Never had I had a conversation such as this, and I had no idea how to process his words, let alone react to them. I froze up, staring at my cooling soup, and something in my silence must have discouraged Cirvel, for with a sigh, he muttered quickly, "Thank you for the meal," and rose from his chair. He was embarrassed, and I wished that I had not become so stuck in my wordlessness.

He was at standing at my door, gripping at the handle to open it when I made my decision. I stood up too, standing so quickly that my skirts knocked the chair over. I didn't bend to retrieve it, but strode boldly across the floor to the elf and placed a hand on his hand that was holding the door handle. "Please, Cirvel," I encouraged. "I would have you stay a little longer."

"I want to," he assured me. He released the door handle, but did not, however, release my hand. He lifted it to his lips and brushed soft kisses on my knuckles, and I felt my legs turn to jelly, much like the last time he had done this. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, and I could swear that he was weaving a spell of compulsion around me, keeping my feet rooted to the ground. "Lin, I am drawn to you," he said, his voice down in that husky, lower range again. His words frightened and excited me, and I could barely force myself to breathe.

"I- I feel the same way," I said breathlessly when he didn't say anything else. Hesitantly, he wrapped his other arm around my waist and drew me in closer, until the lengths of our bodies were touching. I rested my head on his shoulder, and I slowly inhaled his scent. He dropped a soft kiss on my forehead, and to my surprise, I realized that this action was not uncomfortable in the least. I felt like I belonged in those strong arms of his, and that if we remained like this for the rest of eternity I might actually know bliss.

It came of no surprise that his next action was to place a finger under my chin and tilt my head up to place a gentle kiss upon my lips.

\----- 

The next day, I woke up with a whole new outlook – the world suddenly offered so much more to me. Cirvel had left only on his own insistence that he should, I would have had him stay with me that night. However, to my surprise, he woke me in the morning holding a bouquet of flowers and a steaming cup of tea. I had started to awaken when I felt his weight sink onto my bed, but my initial alarm immediately melted into an overwhelming feeling of love and luck and immense happiness.

He leant over me and kissed me softly. I sighed in contentment, somehow unable to believe that I was awake, and that this was happening.

Cirvel walked with me to Galadriel's talan, and though I was loath to leave him, he deposited me at her door with a gentle kiss and a promise that we would spend time together later. The Lady would not want me to skip off and spend the day with him, he assured me, and I had a duty to her. This I could not argue with, and so after hesitating a moment longer, I took my leave. Anor that day could not have moved any more slowly across the heavens, and in my head I formulated excuse after excuse to leave the Lady's company and return to Cirvel. I was not normally so distracted at work, but I found that I could think of nothing else but the way he had kissed me. I did not eat – my appetite was nonexistent – and I felt my stomach leap each time I glanced toward the door, knowing that I would see him soon. Galadriel's knowing smile told me that she knew exactly where my thoughts were, and I couldn't help but think that she had seen it all from the start.

Because of Cirvel's youth and status, he would spend a month away at the borders and then a month at home. I had every intention of spending my free time with that elf until he left, and every intention of dreaming about him while he was gone.

It wasn't long before Cirvel and I were acknowledged as an item among our peers and families. Parents were introduced, embarrassing stories of childhoods revealed, and approval was met on all parts. I spent so much time with him that it was more unusual to be without him, and my overwhelming feelings of bliss were so hard to contain that even when he was out at the border, I could hardly go a moment without smiling.

Even when it rained, my days were always filled with sunshine.

\----- 

T.A. 1135

Where was that husband of mine? He should be coming home soon.

In retrospect, my courtship and eventual marriage to Cirvel was swift and simple. Neither of us were fond of games, neither of us interested in denying what we felt for the other, and it happened to be exactly the right time for us to meet and fall in love. Building a relationship when Cirvel was in and out of my life so frequently was neither easy nor desirable, but it worked because we wanted to be together. We were meant for each other, and now our souls were intertwined, bound together for eternity. Cirvel quickly became my stronghold, the rock to which I clung when I felt that my life was getting unbalanced.

We had our daughter Colnen soon after we were married, and I smiled, remembering the first time I held the beautiful blonde baby, who became strong and passionate like her father (and as stubborn as I could be), and to me, my life was complete. I had my husband and I had my daughter, even though she was far away – what else could I possibly need?

I did not know then that what I needed was a change. I could never have expected that this change would be brought on as swiftly and irrevocably as it did. Neither could I have anticipated how welcome that change would be, and how important it became.

I grew impatient waiting for Cirvel, and when he did not return at his usual hour, I began to really work myself up. I had been preparing to talk to him all day – his tardiness began to grate on my nerves. As if taunting me with happier times long past, outside it began to rain. The heavens opened up and it began to pour, cacophonous as anything on my rooftop.

"Oh please," I said exasperatedly, leveling the outside world with my fiercest glare. (It continued to rain, so I supposed the heavens weren't listening to me.) Now Cirvel would come home and he would be a sodden, bedraggled mess, and I'd have to dry him off before I accomplished anything. All I wanted was to get to the root of the problem so we could fix it before it became an even bigger one, and I was ready to talk about it and, "Oh where is that blasted man?" I exclaimed.

"You're not talking about me, are you?" Cirvel asked with a wry smile. There he stood, indeed as sodden and bedraggled as I had expected him to be, but home and smiling at me.

"Cirvel," I sighed, relieved. He opened his arms and I went to him, feeling my clothes growing damp, not caring about it at all. "I'm so glad you're home – I was worried when it began to rain that you might be swept up in a flood…"

"I'm just fine, Lin," he assured, kissing the crown of my head.

Taking a deep breath, steeling myself to ask the questions I feared would provide unhappy answers, I answered, "You're not though, my love, are you?" I looked up at him, and saw the truth right there in his eyes. "You are very unhappy," I said sadly.

"Very unhappy may be exaggerating, but I cannot deny it," Cirvel answered honestly.

"What is wrong?" I pressed, pulling him into the kitchen and pushing him down into a chair, where I began to softly massage his shoulders. He let his head roll forward, and I pulled his wet hair to the side, to get it out of my way.

"I have been thinking…" he sighed, "of returning to Lórien, for a time," he admitted. I froze. He wanted to leave me?

He quickly looked up at me, horror written on his face and he stammered, "No, not like that! I meant that I've been thinking about it for a time. I don't want to go back, not without you," he explained quickly.

"Lin, please, I miss Colnen, I miss Nemir, I want to see our family, our old friends," he continued hastily. "Mirkwood grows darker daily, and with every shade it darkens, I miss our golden home…" He was practically begging me, the way he was saying it.

"You know I cannot leave here," I said quietly, reminding him, "Not for as long as you would like to go."

"I know, I know, it was stupid of me to be thinking of it at all, I couldn't go anywhere without you," he said, rushing toward me and pulling my lips to his. I was crying, and my tears lingered on his lips.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing me again.

"I love you, too." I felt shattered, torn into a thousand pieces.

Thunder echoed in the distance.


	7. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin takes Legolas on a little field trip.

T.A. 1135

Thank goodness I had picked up fruits at the fall festival to preserve, because I wouldn't have been able to survive the following weeks without some added distraction from my moping husband. Despite adamant assurance about how he was fine, and didn't want to go, I caught him staring West more frequently than I was comfortable with. Weighing my options, I decided a temporarily absent husband was better than a sulking one, so I prepared a travelling pack for him and quite literally shoved him bodily out the door.

"But what about…" he began to protest. I interrupted before he could create an excuse.

"Don't even start, I'll make sure everything is in order here. Get going, my love, but don't leave for too long," I reminded him as I absentmindedly straightened his coat and fixed his hair.

Eyes bright, he assured me, "I'll be back before you know it." He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on my lips. "I'll miss you, meleth nin," he said sweetly.

"You better," I said, prodding him hard in the chest. "Give my love to Colnen, Halfod, and Nemir… and try to convince them to visit? I know they'd love…" I sniffled, trying to hold back tears. How I wished I were going with him! But it wasn't yet my time. Cirvel missed nothing, and gathered me in close, holding me tightly.

"I promise," he replied. He drew back and cupped my face with his hands. "Thank you, Lin, for listening to what my heart was saying. I couldn't admit it to myself, but you knew what I needed. You always know," he said quietly.

There was simply no way around it: I missed my husband. Through our bond, I knew instinctively how he was doing, like listening to a gentle hum emitting from his soul, but without our daily conversations to anchor these emotions I felt coming from him, I felt lost, adrift. It was easy to take advantage of his nearness, easy to forget that I would always have him to return home to. But our bed seemed to grow larger every day he was not in it, and the happiness I felt emanating from his soul told me that he had reached Lórien and had found our family well. I felt jealous, wishing I had thrown my hands up and just gone with him. Perhaps he had made the right decision and I the wrong one… and my daily struggles with Legolas were not helping the way I felt in the least.

Lately, the young prince was very rapidly becoming a royal pain in the neck. He was a little older and a little more deviant-minded, and his constant squirming protests were getting more than a little tiresome. He reached his father's chest in height, though he stood a little taller to my more petite frame, almost as tall as I was. Because of this, it was a lot harder to pin him down and make him study his lessons every day, but always I prevailed… even if I had to get a little resourceful and enlist the palace guards to ensure his return. Whether or not he was carried home was entirely up to him.

Today, he was sitting at the desk that was still a little bit too big for him and was hunched over a thick, bound manuscript detailing a pact between men of old and although I knew he was reading it, every word he read went straight through his eyes and right out of his ears. His lithe little body was curled up under him on the chair, and his ears were twitching: telltale signs that he was planning his next escape. I rose from my chair and stepped to stand beside him and when the young elfling felt my hand on his shoulder I felt him flinch. He knew that I knew what he was thinking about; a single glance into his bright blue eyes was all I needed to glean that he was absolutely miserable in this little room this afternoon. Although he was usually a little bored at lessons, this was more than that. I softened, feeling bad about keeping him here too much longer when even I longed to be elsewhere. He had already worked so hard this morning, so I squeezed his shoulder gently, and said, "Come on, Little Leaf, let us end your studies a little earlier this afternoon and find something fun to do, shall we?" I suggested with a gentle smile. Legolas' face brightened just a little.

"What are we going to do Miss Lin?" he asked excitedly, bouncing in his chair. His enthusiasm made me chuckle softly.

"Why don't we explore the palace a bit?"

"But Miss Lin, I already  _know_ the palace!" Legolas whined, face falling. "What about outside? I have not yet explored all of the forest!"

"There are goblins and ghosties out in the forest, Little Leaf. We would do better to remain indoors." I spoke this lightly, but I knew what lurked beyond the borders: giant spiders, orcs and goblins – all creatures that made me very nervous, and I wouldn't be bringing a child out into the forest with me. Not without wrapping him up in cotton wool first. "You know," I added a little more quietly, conspiratorially, "I heard about something marvelous down in the caves the other day. I would love it if you came and found it with me," I tempted. I could see the wheels working behind Legolas' eyes – he clearly wanted to go with me but was not sure if it truly was that marvelous, if I was fooling him. I saw the exact moment when his curiosity won over his young reluctance.

"Yes, we will go there," he said, popping up from his chair and marching purposefully to the door. I followed him out, staying close behind.

We descended into the very bowels of the palace, past where torches were no longer lit, and so we unhinged one from the wall and carried it down the remaining distance. It was obvious that these areas were not often used and were certainly not often aired; the cobwebs were large and numerous here and the dust that coated the floor felt like it was inches thick, (we both sneezed a few times). The darkness beyond the firelight was oppressive and infinite, and Legolas, seeking comfort, took my hand.

"Are we almost there?" he asked in a whisper.

"Almost," I promised him. "I think it is just up here…" As soon as I had spoken the words, I was rewarded with the sight of an ancient, bronze door. It was heavy, inscribed with graffiti from elves that had passed through it throughout the millennia. In the center of the door the most prevalent engraved words read: 'The Deep Within'. I raised a hand to brush away the dust from the inscription, and asked myself aloud, "What could that mean?"

"It is part of a poem," Legolas stated matter-of-factly. "Everyone knows that," he gave me a look which plainly said ' _obviously_ '.

"Oh, well I guess you'll have to teach me it," I said, surprised that this child could know something I hadn't taught him yet. I supposed it was very possible that he learned it from his parents or his sister when I was not around. "Shall we go in?" I asked him, handing him the lit torch carefully, a habitual warning to keep the flame far from us slipping past my lips before I could stop myself. Legolas ignored me, looking very excited and bouncing on his toes impatiently as he watched me unlatch the ancient, rusted latch and push the door. It was heavy and moved slowly, but I was able to open it just enough for Legolas and I to slip through.

I retrieved the torch from Legolas and held it high in front of me, trying to will the flame to illume as much of the cave as possible. Presented with such pressing darkness, Legolas grabbed my hand again, and I squeezed it reassuringly. "There's nothing down here to be afraid of, Little Leaf," I comforted him. "It is all just rocks."

"Just rocks?" he asked, and even though I couldn't see his face, I could hear in his voice that he was about two minutes away from overcoming his fear and escaping deep into the cave, never to be found again. Briefly, a vision of having to tell Thranduil and Mirwen that I'd lost their son in a cave popped into my head, but I violently pushed the thought aside.

"Just rocks. Come, look at this!" I said to him, picking my way carefully through the cave. I could tell that a pathway had been created, though it was rough and slick, and had clearly not been used for many years. Sounds of dripping water echoed around the cavernous room, and although my eyes were sharp, there were areas that the light of my flickering torch could not penetrate. The rock shimmered a pearly pinkish white, slick and smooth. I reached out to touch a column, and my fingers came away wet.

My senses were overwhelmed: the smell and feel of the air invaded my nose, the cold water dripped from the ceiling, shocking my skin upon contact, and my eyes feasted upon the textures and grandeur of the underground, alien world. I had never before set foot in such a place, and I reveled in the newness of the landscape. My ears picked up the gentle flutter of wings, and I guessed that bats lived deep in the cave system. I peered into a large pool of accumulated water and was surprised to see small, pale, eyeless fish swimming lazily around the water. I marveled at the scenery, a smile widening on my lips.

How long ago had this place been abandoned? The path only went so far, indicating a project long discarded in favor of a less daunting task. Decaying, dusty resources lay in scattered piles in areas that had been purposefully cleared away; time and humidity had not been kind to what had been left behind. Curious, I approached and laid a hand to one of the wooden boxes, and when I drew my hand away, pieces of wet and rotted wood came with it. Peering into the box, I found a faded, almost illegible list of numbers, which upon closer inspection I determined to be numbers of the population of the wood, what kinds of provisions they would require to be sheltered here, and for how long. Outdated numbers they might be, but they revealed the logic behind the work done and then subsequently abandoned. I realized that the reigning peace after the wars fought so long ago might have been the reason why.

Glancing around at the endless darkness surrounding me, I realized that many people, perhaps the whole population of the wood, could fit in these caves if need be. In the dome of illuminated light that the torch cast, I could see that someone had attached old-fashioned torches to columns, and in some places, the rock had grown around the torches, more or less permanently affixing them. I made a mental note to speak with Thranduil about this place, to see if he even knew of it. I prayed that we would never need it, but in case the occasion should ever arise, it would be better to be prepared.

Still deep in my own thoughts, I did not notice Legolas leave my side until I heard his shout: "Miss Lin!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Come look at me!" He had clambered up onto a rock formation and was proudly standing heroically at the top.

"Legolas! What are you doing up there?" I called, trying to tamp down on the uneasy feeling I got seeing him up so high and able to topple down and crack open his head at any moment.

Voice echoing around the cavern, he cried, "I am a mighty warrior! Hey!" A fat drop of water had just fallen from the ceiling onto his head, and he wiped it away. He held up his hands and mimed shooting arrows at his fearsome enemy – the ceiling. I smiled, waiting for him to stop playacting.

"Did you slay your mighty foes?" I asked him, ruffling his hair once he had clambered down to me, beaming from ear to ear.

He bounced on the balls of his feet a little and proudly proclaimed, "They're all gone!"

"Do you want to explore some more with me?" I asked him. Legolas nodded enthusiastically and then skipped ahead of me into the ancient cave. I beamed at his disappearing form and followed dutifully.

\----- 

_A word tonight before you leave, if you would_.

Thranduil had sent that message to me in the morning just as I was getting Legolas and Caralas out of bed and ready for their breakfast. Obligingly, I presented myself to him in his study that evening, but not before a thousand situations had played themselves out in my mind of what he could possibly want from me. He did not often summon me to his study, and the worry that I had done something wrong had kept me preoccupied, so that focusing my mind to teach Legolas his daily lessons was difficult. At one point, the sweet boy had even noticed, asking me what was wrong. "Nothing you need to worry about, darling," I had replied offhandedly.

When the time finally arrived, I knocked and entered his study, settling into a cushy chair on the opposite side of his large, oak desk. It seemed forever before he began speaking, and each second that passed made me fidget more and more anxiously.

"Legolas told me about your adventure yesterday," Thranduil said in a tone I could not identify, not looking up from the map he was poring over.

I hesitated, still unsure whether or not I was in trouble. "Yes, he really seemed to enjoy himself, it was an excellent learning opportunity for him," I justified nervously, playing with my fingers in my lap.

Thranduil angled his head up only slightly and looked up at me past his brows. "I would prefer it if you kept the adventures to a minimum. He is still very young, after all," Thranduil said softly. I flushed with embarrassment, absolutely mortified. I should I have known, I shouldn't have taken, I should–

"However," continued Thranduil, staring down once again at the map, "it has brought to my attention their existence, which I had known of but had long forgotten. Tell me, what did you see?"

Sparing no details, I explained about the caves, and what I thought was their potential – storage, safety, and knowledge. Thranduil nodded solemnly while I spoke, looking more pleased with my every word.

"Thank you, Lin. You have been very thorough," he praised, though not too animatedly. "You may go."

I went.

\----- 

"Legolas, come back here and sit!" I demanded of the prince, who had wandered out of his seat and was heading to the door. "We have only just begun," I reminded him, placing my hands on his shoulders and forcing him to sit still. "We have yet to work on your letters today, and you are not yet finished with this book of poems." I felt some guilt about being such a taskmaster, but the King and Queen had charged me with his primary education, and I felt like I needed to teach him well. Legolas scowled at the offending book as if  _it_ was the one keeping him tied to his chair.

"Miss Lin, I do not  _want_ to read it!" he whined, his arms crossed around his chest and his hair falling into his face. I set the book on the desk in front of him and opened it to the first page that we had not yet read and pointed at the first line. He began to sound out the words meticulously, letter by letter, and I listened to him while I braided his hair to keep it out of his face, correcting him as needed. He squirmed a little while I plaited, but he continued to read.

The book was a book of old children's tales, and so they usually held some appeal to him. Sometimes, the stories were so engrossing that he would forget to read it out loud and begin reading to himself.

Legolas finished one poem and beamed up at me. It might be a battle each time he began a new poem, but he was always so happy when he reached the end. I smiled and patted his shoulder warmly, "Well done, Little Leaf. How about you read another one, now?" I suggested. He nodded.

" _A man who once lived far and long ago_

_Ne'er strode beyond the door of his abode_

_For fear of dark, and dang'rous things outside_

_Inside his house he was wont e'er to hide_

_One day he left his home when he was forced_

_His steps were hesitant, his mien remorse_

_The woods were infinite, the trees were tall_

_The man who stepped amidst them felt so small_

_He came upon wise Old Man Willow's tree_

_The branches whispered to him quietly_

_They told him stop, so he could fin'ly live_

_If to the woods his soul he'd freely give_

_From that point forward did his life begin_

_He never feared again the deep within."_

I had been listening with half of my mind and thinking privately about how quickly he was growing into a handsome and smart little elf, when the last line jarred me from my thoughts. Something about it seemed oddly familiar. "Legolas, have you read this before?" I asked curiously.

"Why yes, Miss Lin. Everyone knows it," he said matter-of-factly. "It was on the door to the cave, remember?" His eyes went suddenly really big and round. "Miss Lin! Let's go back to the cave!" he exclaimed, leaping from his chair and making a mad dash to the door. "Can we, can we?" I lunged forward and grabbed at the air where Legolas had previously been a moment before.

"And again…" I muttered under my breath. I loved that child, but he certainly did not work to make things any easier for me. In fact, I was almost positive he worked only to make my life more difficult, but even given the difficulties, I never said that they were unwelcome.


	8. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin considers returning to Lothlorien.
> 
> (Thanks go to our guest writer JoanJoanJoanJoan for the letter in this chapter!)

T.A. 1131

Cirvel finally returned as the last snows of winter were yielding to the first sprouts of spring. The joy I felt at his homecoming eclipsed the sullen wintery thoughts I had been experiencing due to his spending more time abroad than his original intent. The winter had been harsh and dark in Mirkwood, and had seemed much longer without him by my side. Even the winter solstice festivities had seemed a little less festive without him. Nestled in my talan with a steaming cup of mulled wine, I vowed never to spend another cold, snowy, icy winter (or autumn, or summer… or spring) away from him.

He brought home with him a heavier load than he had left with – tokens, gifts, and other assorted things from Lórien: things that Colnen thought cluttered her home that we had given her years ago, gifts from friends who missed us (and whom we missed, too), and even a token from the Lady Galadriel, a small bag of seeds of the niphredil flower.

But nestled in among the gifts and clothes that had once been folded and neatly packed but had since been tossed around by cross-country travel was a small treasure whose simplicity brought tears to my eyes. A letter from a longtime friend, a little slip of an elleth who worked in the kitchens, to whom I had not written in so many years.

_Dearest Lin,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I think of you often since you and Cirvel made for the Greenwood, all those seasons ago, and so I thought it would be fitting to tell you so, else I fear you shall forget us all!_

_I jest, of course, an I say this all in sentimental gesture, but you left your loving touch all over Lothlórien, and sometimes I wish that I could just look upon your sweet face once more. I am loathe to bombard you with such requests, but will instead only say it once: please consider an excursion back to your home soon, as you are missed greatly by us all. It was pleasant to see your Cirvel, but it is you whom I miss most._

_Your granddaughter has flourished into a skilled gardener and her talent has left me speechless many a time. My mother has commented constantly about the quality of her herb infusions, and Sîrwen is even considering using them in the kitchens! Your daughter Colnen and her Halfod are very well, and they speak highly of your employers._

_And everything in the Golden Wood continues to run smoothly as it always has. I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, and I pray to hear from the northern forests and their new inhabitants soon._

_Celiel_

My heart lurched upon my completion of reading her letter, and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to wallow in my homesickness. Celiel and I had spent much time together during my youth – she had been far more experienced than I when I had begun working for the Lady, and I remembered fondly her guidance and friendship.

  
Somehow, in forging blindly ahead in our new life in Mirkwood, I had neglected the people who mattered most to me back home in Lothlórien. I couldn't allow this to continue; I set a quill and paper on my kitchen table to remind me to answer her letter immediately upon returning that evening, after looking after Legolas.

\----- 

  
T.A. 1140

"Miss Lin, have you heard this before? Listen!" demanded the gangly, barely adolescent Prince sitting at the desk in the room we had long called our classroom.

  
"What?" I asked, looking up from the book I had in my own hands. While Legolas studied his histories, I had taken up studying a little as well, reading up on the history of the Wood I now called my home. I found that even though I had lived here for a number of years, I did not come by knowledge of its secrets easily – such was the nature of its inhabitants. "Tell me, Legolas," I urged.

  
Legolas, taking advantage of the opportunity to show off, launched into a long, complicated tale to do with the history of Lothlórien. With a sigh of relief, I realized I was more than familiar with the topic; anyone from the Golden Wood would be. He spoke of the creation of the Mellyrn, the great golden trees sung to being by the Lady Galadriel. As Legolas read, his nose got closer and closer to the text, bearing strong resemblance to his father, who was wont to emerge from his study with dust and ink stains on the tip of his nose. I listened carefully while Legolas read to me, nodding appreciatively at the tale anytime he glanced my way to make sure I was paying attention. When he finished, he proudly set the thickly bound book on his lap.

"Miss Lin, can I ask you a question?"he asked quickly before I could begin quizzing him about it, perhaps hoping to distract me from doing exactly that. I set my own manuscript down and nodded my head encouragingly. It was not unusual that he had questions about what he was reading, and it was my job as his nanny and tutor to answer them. "My mother told me you are from Lothlórien. Is this true?"

"I am," I replied, waiting for Legolas to continue - the child simply could not ask a single question at one time and it was obvious that this was a multi-part question. Irritating though it sometimes became, for the most part, I thoroughly appreciated his curiosity and his willingness to learn when he was interested.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, leaning forward as though he couldn't wait for my answer.

"Your mother was visiting Lórien and asked me to return with her…"

"When?" Legolas interrupted.

"I arrived a few months before your birth," I said, choosing not to chastise him as I usually might about interrupting his elders.

"But you've always been here… Have you not gone back?" he asked, his eyes wide. I thought I saw fear behind his eyes, perhaps fear of ever leaving his home and never returning. It was no childish fear, for the same feeling still resonated within me.

"I have not returned, no," I said.

"But why?" Legolas exclaimed, apparently personally offended. "Why not?" He abandoned all pretense of being at all interested in his studies then, moving to sit instead in my lap. I smiled and wrapped an arm around him, holding him steady. It was moments like this that reminded me how young he still was – moments like these that reminded me why I still remained in Mirkwood.

Having no other, perhaps more strategic answer, I told him the truth: "You keep me here, Little Leaf. I love you dearly and I could not leave you." I stroked his blonde head, and he nestled further into my embrace, his head on my shoulder and his face buried in my neck. He found it very comforting, and so did I.

"I do exchange letters with my daughter and my friends when I can."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lin. Do you want very much to go back home?" he asked somberly.

"Sometimes I do very much. My daughter and her family are there, and I would very much like to see them," I answered truthfully. "But, Little Leaf, this is my home now and I love it here just as much," I told him. He moved his head slightly so he could see my eyes. "You, your sister, and your mother and father are my family too," I assured him.

"That is good. I do not want you to leave me," he said. My heart softened and I felt tears stinging. I vowed to always remember this moment – I knew how quickly he would grow from here. It would not be long before the little Prince would no longer fit in my lap and would no longer want to share such loving thoughts with me.

"I will not leave you," I promised. I knew at some point I would have to let him go – at some point he would no longer need me – but he needn't worry himself until that day arrived. I would always be there for him.

"Thank you," he said. We remained that way for some time, until he felt ready to continue his lesson, and even then I could tell he was thoroughly distracted by thoughts of homes far from home.

\-----

The chill autumn wind floated in through my open windows and brought with it the orange and red leaves from trees that were losing them. By the end of the day, I always ended up with a collection of leaves, and no amount of sweeping could combat it. I could not begrudge the seasons for changing, but I could mourn the memory of having a clean home on a daily basis. Cirvel, however, always delighted in walking around on the crunchy leaves; he found the noises he made when he stepped thoroughly amusing. He emerged from our room (crunch crunch) and very un-sneakily he approached me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and deposited a kiss on my cheek.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "What are you up to, making jams?" he asked delightedly. The berry jams were always his favorite.

"What is the point of asking if you already know what I am doing?" I asked him. He ignored me.

"Are you making the berry jam?" he asked, filled with hope. He glanced hopefully at the bucket full of fruit by my feet, ascertaining it contained his favorite fall berries.

"Again, why do you ask questions you already know the answers to?" I wondered aloud to myself, because I knew I would not get a response.

"Will the Princeling be coming here today, then?" he asked. Without missing a beat, our trapdoor was flung open, and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Prince stuck his head up through the floor.

"It smells wonderful in here, Miss Lin!" he exclaimed happily. Cirvel chuckled.

"Perhaps you will be so lucky as to marry one such as Lin someday who will make you all the jams you could want," he said, offering his hand to the Prince to pull him through. Legolas ignored him and scrambled up the ladder and to my side, plucking a couple of berries from my bucket and popping them into his mouth. Briefly, he made a face. "Those are rather sour," he informed me. "Are you sure you want to make jam from those?"

"I will add honey later, and it makes it very sweet," I told him.

"Oh." Was his response. "Well, what can I do?" he asked.

"You can sit at the table and read your lesson for the day," I reminded him. "Cirvel, could you choose a book for him?" I asked. "Make sure it's a really big one," I said, mostly in jest to make Legolas squirm a little.

Cirvel grinned wickedly, and selected a fat tome from the pile of books I had brought to either read myself or kept here for these days when Legolas came to me, instead of me going to the palace. I had recently discovered that the occasional change of scenery did wonders for his attention span. "This one suits nicely," he said, making sure to let it thud rather satisfactorily on the table. Legolas peered at it hesitantly. "Go on then, son. Open it and start reading," Cirvel prompted, leaning over the chair. Legolas did as he was told, and I admired the scene from my vantage point on the side.

Legolas was a fine young elf. Even young as he was, I knew he was going to be devilishly handsome someday – because the devil was in that grin of his. Legolas was as much my son as my charge, and Cirvel had taken on this role with me, without me ever having to say a thing to him – Cirvel knew he would likely someday be training the child he was currently helping guide through his lessons. I knew Legolas would not be allowed on the training field for some time, certainly not until he was old enough and not until he was deigned worthy enough by the trainers. Despite his father, Legolas would have to earn his place like any other elf.

Cirvel clapped Legolas on the shoulder and said goodbye. He paused for a kiss from me and left for the fields.

"I like him – this book isn't hard at all!" Legolas told me, looking up from his book. He often told me how much he liked Cirvel – it was a kind of treat for him to spend time with my husband. The young boy had adopted him as another father, and it made my heart swell to see the two of them interact.

"Then Cirvel has gone soft," I replied, "I shall have to scold him later," I joked.

We were silent for a time, each absorbed in our own work. My jam was simmering away when Legolas looked up from the book again and told me, matter-of-factly, "I want you to go back to Lothlórien."

"Excuse me?" I said, sure I had not heard him correctly.

"I want you to go back to Lothlórien. Not forever, just for a while. To see your daughter," he explained. "But make sure you come back," he hurriedly added.

"I wouldn't want you to stay there… but I see my mother all the time… and I would feel sad if she were far away for a long time. I don't want your daughter to feel like her mother doesn't want to see her again." His rationale brought tears to my eyes; I had been suppressing those thoughts for a long time.

"If you want me to go, I will. Perhaps in the springtime, Little Leaf. Winter will be upon us soon enough, and that is no time to go abroad."

"Alright, Miss Lin. Don't forget." He made me promise. I considered the pressure that I had been receiving from my family, from my friends, from my husband, and now from my charge. My resolve buckled, and I relented.

I promised. 


	9. Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson in dendrology, and preparations arise for a trip back home.

T.A. 1141

"Good morning, Lin!" Mirwen chimed cheerfully as I entered the royal apartments as I did every morning, with a breakfast-laden tray. Quiet mornings, before the palace roused, were my chance to gossip good-naturedly and catch up with her family. I usually took this time to inform her of Legolas' latest achievements (and recent misbehavior) under my supervision.

"Good morning, Mirwen," I replied, offering her a cup of tea. I had taken a liking to her tea of choice, which was a lovely spiced brew quite unlike anything I had ever tasted in Lórien, which boasted calming floral and herbal teas. I settled down next to the queen on the cozy couch and sipped my tea. "I trust you are well this morning?" I inquired.

"I am well! Although I would be better if my lazy husband were to join us," she said in a slightly louder voice, ensuring the King heard her. I heard a muffled grunt coming from their bedroom, and Mirwen winked at me. I smiled; I loved the way they teased each other, it was so unlike anything I had ever seen between the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn.

The King and Queen held a strong partnership, and I envied them.

"Thranduil can stay in bed as long as he likes, as he is King," I replied, also loudly.

"Stop encouraging him or he'll never learn!" Mirwen countered with a wink.

"Learn, my arse!" Thranduil protested, poking his head around the doorframe. I laughed softly. This banter continued for a time, as it did every morning in some form or fashion, and I sat back and enjoyed the spectacle. However, this particular morning I found it difficult to engage in our usual conversation, because I had resolved to bring up the topic of returning to Lórien, and the topic made me nervous.

"Mirwen," I began some time later, when Thranduil had slipped out in search of one captain or another to corner, "I actually did have something I wanted to discuss with you." I was hesitant to bring up the topic of my desire to go home, because I did not want to leave her without someone to care for her son. Even worse, I feared rejection of my plea.

"Oh?" Mirwen asked, pouring both of us more tea.

"Recently, Lórien has been much occupying my mind… It has been a long time since I have seen my family, and-"

"Say no more, Lin," Mirwen interrupted, placing her hand upon my arm. "Go. You deserve a break from my brat of a son," she encouraged. I relaxed, and it must have been visibly because Mirwen laughed softly, and asked, "You weren't expecting me to tell you that you couldn't go, were you?"

"Some part of me was," I admitted. Mirwen smiled, and placed her hand on my arm.

"I wouldn't dream of denying you your family," she assured me, and I smiled, more grateful than I could express. "I am surprised you haven't asked sooner! In fact…" she said, and I saw a familiar, slightly devious glint in her eye. "I have been thinking of escaping this wood for a while, myself. The changing of the seasons always makes me want to leave and seek other, far flung places," she explained. "If you would not be averse to a traveling companion…" she trailed off hopefully.

"I wouldn't dream of denying you an escape from your family," I teased her. And so it was decided that Mirwen would accompany me to Lórien. She told me she had plans of traveling south as well, perhaps to Gondor to walk among the humans ("I've always wanted to," she explained excitedly, "I find humans fascinating,") and bring some royal tidings to their king, whose rapid expansion campaign had brought his borders close to our own. I looked forward to the campfires and camaraderie we shared on the way to Mirkwood all those years ago, but more than that I looked forward to seeing my family together once again, and holding them in my arms.

And so the preparations began.

\-----

"Good morning, Little Leaf," I greeted, sweeping into the young Prince's bedroom and opening the curtains brusquely. He squirmed in his sheets, throwing them up over his head and groaning "Nooooo... Miss Lin!" I grinned – whenever I had to wake up the Prince, he always had the same reaction; he had since he was a toddler. Being that he was approaching adolescence, I had spoken with his father and we had both agreed that it was time that Legolas start rising with the rest of the family. I had little hope that our efforts to wake him up earlier would actually be anything but annoying to the Prince at this age, but eventually he would learn.

"Anor rose long ago, and so should have you," I reminded him. It was a phrase I heard Mirwen threatening Thranduil with many years ago, and I had adopted it enthusiastically. It thoroughly amused me to see the similarities between father and son, and it pleased me to see that Legolas would grow to be all we had hoped for.  
Legolas groaned again under his covers. "Come," I said, "I have something very fun for us to do this morning."

"If it isn't sleep, I don't want to know," Legolas mumbled. What cheek! I had to fight to keep the smile off my face, but inwardly I was applauding his sardonic remark.

"Now, Legolas," I demanded. Opening his wardrobe, I selected the appropriate clothing and threw them on the bed. "If you are not up when I return with your breakfast, I will lock you in the classroom all day. No breaks," I warned. Only after I threatened this did Legolas rise from his bed and greet the day, albeit rather slowly.

I left his room to let him sink or swim by himself – I was not going to hover and make sure he did everything in a timely fashion. He did not know it, but I really had planned some fun things for us to do, and I happily intended to leave the books alone, gathering dust in the classroom. A few choice incidents aside (mostly to do with hiding, the boy loved to find the darkest nooks and cram himself into them), Legolas had been good as of late. He deserved a day off.

I collected food from the kitchens, making small talk with the kitchen staff about the gently receding winter and the first signs of spring. Winter was bowing out of the forest gracefully, the snow had long ago melted and the grass grew green again. I always loved this particular turning of the seasons best. Spring always brought peace to the wood.  
Legolas was awake when I returned, but his mind certainly still slept while he sat at a table and ate his breakfast. I enjoyed a cup of tea, having already eaten my breakfast with Cirvel earlier, and waited for the young elf to eat. He was half-dressed, wearing the pants he had slept in but having donned a tunic, his hair mussy, and his eyes were bleary. I pushed food in front of him, and as he ate, slowly he also woke.

"What will we do today, Miss Lin?" Legolas asked, once he had finished. I smiled, excited about my plan.

"We will be planting a tree, Legolas," I informed him gleefully.

"Miss Lin, the forest is filled with trees," he told me, as if I were extremely slow. "Why would we plant another one? Can't I play with my bow?" Thranduil had recently gifted Legolas his first bow, a child-sized one, complete with arrows with dulled points. Legolas was fond of practicing; however he was also fond of practicing indoors… on prey such as his sister.

"Yes it is, but the forest is not filled with a single tree planted by you. Do you not want your own tree?" I asked him. He pondered this for a moment, clearly weighing the advantages of having his own tree against not having one at all. While I did not see his logic, I did see his thoughts eventually settle in my favor.

"Very well. Let's go!" he exclaimed, leaping from the chair and racing to the door. Laughing, I chased him all the way into the entrance hall. He skidded to a halt. "Where do we find a tree and how do we plant it?" he asked me politely.

"What does a tree grow from?" I asked, trying to make this as much of a lesson as anything.

"The ground?" he replied, confused.

"Yes, but from what?" I clarified.

"A seed, I suppose. So where do we get a seed?" he concluded.

"Where do you think?" I asked. Legolas gave me a look that plainly said 'Are you going to make me ask everything?' to which I gave him a look that answered, 'Yes and answer my question, silly child.'

"I suppose a gardener would have seeds?" he said, thought it was more of a question than a supposition.

"Off to the gardener, then!" I said, waving my arm in the general direction of outside. Legolas was off without any further encouragement and I followed closely. Making him think through the whole process would be good for him, for he would be presented with much more difficult problems than trees in his future. The gardener had a sizeable building on the palace grounds which smelled strongly of fertilizer and soil. Legolas wrinkled his nose when he opened the door, but politely asked about tree seeds.

The gardener was a patient man with dirty fingers and hair braided back to keep it out of his face while he worked. He was in charge of all of the gardens on the grounds of the palace, of which there were many. "You want to plant a tree, you say?" he repeated. "Why, that is a fine thing to do, little Prince," he said, obviously fiercely proud of Legolas, who beamed appreciatively. "I happen to have a few seeds right here, for beech trees. These will grow tall for you," he assured. Legolas took the proffered seeds, which were strange in shape and a little fuzzy. He thanked the gardener and began to leave, when I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Legolas stopped.

"What?" he asked. "We have our seeds. Now we go plant them, right?"

"Do you know how to plant them?" I asked. Legolas looked at his hands for a moment, cupped together like he was holding water.

"No…" he admitted. "How do we plant them?" he asked the gardener, who was already opening a drawer and pulling out a spade, shovel and a bucket. He explained to Legolas the function of each tool and gave him step-by-step instructions of what to do. Legolas, distracted by the tools and the fuzzy seeds, heard little of the instruction, and the gardener knew it. "Make sure you take good care of the tree, Prince," he said, winking at me. "Did you get all of that?" Legolas blinked a few times, nodded, and wandered off, balancing all of the tools precariously in his arms.

"Thank you," I told the gardener. "I will make sure he does it correctly, but perhaps if I return and tell you where we plant it, will you keep an eye on it for us?" I asked. The gardener assured me he would and I followed my charge out of the door.

"Legolas, where do you want to plant it?" I asked. Legolas was walking very purposely in the direction of the river, and he told me as such.

"I would like to plant it by the river in my favorite place," he told me firmly.

"That sounds perfect."

Together, once we reached his favorite place by the river, we planted his tree. Legolas did it all by himself – dug the hole, planted the seed, filled it, and watered it with water taken from the river. His arms were completely dirt-covered, and his face had smudges on it too, from where he had scratched his cheek or pushed his hair out of the way. He worked with a single-mindedness I had only ever seen from him when he was misbehaving.

"Make sure you return every day to water it," I told him. He nodded.

"We can do it during our lessons," he suggested happily.

"We can for a while, but, my darling, you will have to remember all by yourself for a while. I will be going back to Lórien to visit my family soon," I told him. I thought I knew how he would react, but he surprised me by saying:

"Thank you for keeping your promise, Miss Lin. I will miss you, but you'll come back."

\-----

The preparations had all been made, the bags packed, the horses loaded, and then Legolas pulled one of his worst stunts. He had been playing with a torch (that he had somehow dislodged from a wall) and set a tapestry in the Great Hall ablaze. It was quickly contained, but the tapestry would not be able to be repaired. Not only was it incredibly dangerous, but neither his parents no I had known where Legolas had been since he had not been in his bed as we had thought. We had immediately dispatched anyone and everyone we could to find him – and eventually found him attempting to sneak out of the palace, bags packed. "I'm leaving!" he had apparently shouted at the guards, "And I'm never coming back!"

Mirwen now had Legolas by the ear, dragging him through the hallways, completely silent. Thranduil and I were in their wake, trailing behind her and trading nervous glances.

Neither of us had seen Mirwen is such a rage. When we reached the royal quarters, Mirwen let go of Legolas, who rubbed his ear and looked up at his mother with tears in his eyes.

Caralas poked her head out from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and complaining about all of the noise. When she realized what was going on – that her brother was being yelled at – she joined Thranduil and me as a spectator.

Mirwen began to yell, practically exploding, screaming at Legolas about irresponsibility and dangers to himself and the palace. Thranduil cautiously stepped forward to intervene, placing a hand on her shoulder. She whirled about, screaming, "He's YOUR son!" and stomped off into their bedroom to calm down. I followed after her to see what I could to do to calm her down.

Mirwen was pacing and muttering furiously to herself, and I, not knowing what else to do, stepped in front of her and put my hands out, physically stopping her. She nearly forced past me. "Mirwen!" I shouted. "Stop!"

She looked up. I don't think she had ever heard me raise my voice before – I'm not sure that I had in many years. She was silent for all of five, maybe six seconds, when she began to talk again and tried to push past me. "I can't do it – I can't leave Legolas here. Not when he acts out like this. Thranduil can't control him – he has the forest to mind and…"

"Mirwen, stop," I ordered. She stopped. "Think rationally, please," I urged her, although I knew she was probably right. Legolas would walk all over Thranduil and get into all kinds of trouble without our watchful eyes, and Thranduil didn't control the young Prince nearly as well as the way his mother and I could.

"I am thinking rationally," she insisted. I raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I am not. But that child infuriates me!" She scowled.

"If we need to take him with us, we will take him with us. It will do him some good to get out of the wood – these trees get the best of us all sometimes," I assured her.

"Together we can make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble."

Before we could further discuss the topic, we heard Legolas scream at the top of his lungs. "Oh goodness," I muttered. "What now?"

Legolas screamed shrilly, Caralas complained shrilly about being woken up so early, Thranduil bellowed at Legolas because he was screaming, Mirwen tried to get Legolas to stop screaming but Legolas made a break for it and escaped out the door that had been left ajar, and I stood in awe of the absolute chaos that was before me.

We could hear the screams of Legolas retreating, but within seconds of his escape we also heard a screech when he was obviously caught by someone. Moments later, he was carried into the room thrown over the shoulder of a guard, and he was screaming and hitting anything he could reach. The poor guard must have been in an immense amount of pain; even young, Legolas had a great deal of strength. None of us moved for a good thirty seconds after Legolas had been deposited in the center of the room.

I was the first to recover. I ordered Caralas into her room, pushed Thranduil and Mirwen into chairs and grabbed Legolas by the arm to frog march him into his room where I sat him down on his bed and got at eye level with him by kneeling in front of him.

"Legolas, what is wrong?" I asked him. This type of misbehavior was not typical of him even on one of his bad days, and I wanted to get to the root of the problem.

"I don't want you and mother to leave and leave me behind," he told me. I was proud of him for getting straight to the point, even if he said it quietly and to his feet.

"And you thought setting a tapestry on fire was a good way to tell us this?" I asked.

"I thought it might keep you here longer." Legolas began to cry, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"And then you were going to leave?" I prompted.

"I was going to follow you…"

"Legolas, I thought you wanted me to go, you told me so," I reminded him softly. "I still have to leave, you know."

"I know," he said with a sniffle.

"Are you going to run away again?" I asked, "Can I take you back to your parents now?"

"Am I going to be punished?" he asked tearfully. I nodded. He sighed, but stood and walked to the door. He paused, hand on the door handle. "Can you ask them not to scream?"

"I will ask, but they are very angry. If they want to scream, they will and I have no right to stop them. They are your parents," I said. Legolas nodded, and opened the door to face his parents. He listened to them silently and accepted his punishment: his bow would be taken away from him for many months. He also agreed that he would accompany Mirwen and me to Lórien, and offered to help pack his things.


	10. The Golden Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin and Company return to Lothlorien... and bring a little tagalong.

T.A. 1141

As far as punishments went, ours was weak, barely a punishment at all, and we knew it. Mirwen and I had to pretend to Legolas that it was no fun for him to be coming along for at least a few weeks – and this way at least Thranduil wouldn't have to deal with him. I still couldn't believe that Legolas had set the tapestry on fire… it was so unlike him. Or, at least, I thought it was so unlike him; but boys grow fast and change quickly.

Cirvel was almost no help at all. He kept on trying to get Legolas to play tricks on the rest of the traveling party. Legolas was only too happy (with my scoundrel husband's encouragement) to hide important items from us, like water skins and weapons, and poke the rear ends of horses with sticks to try and spook them. Mirwen and I grew weary of their antics very quickly.

"Stop it!" I snapped one morning, after having to snatch my water skin from under Legolas' rear end, since he had so cleverly decided to sit on it in an effort to hide it from me. "Or I will leave you both here in the middle of nowhere."

"That's quite alright, Legolas and I can make our own way, can't we Leaf?" Cirvel replied cheekily, ruffling the child's hair affectionately.

"Yeah, we'll be fine!" Legolas echoed, standing proudly by my husband.

"There will be no archery lessons for the rest of your life if you do not quit this," Mirwen threatened her son, hands on her hips. Legolas stuck out his chin.

"And Cirvel, I hope you like cold beds, because that's what yours will be if you don't straighten up," I added without remorse, raising my eyebrows in a challenge.

The guards all chuckled while Cirvel stood motionless, and apparently momentarily speechless. "You… wouldn't?" he eventually accused, though the upturn in his voice implied that he wasn't so secure.

"You just wait," I replied icily, casually mounting my horse and leading us all from our campsite.

But, at last we arrived in Lórien with no further incidents, and Legolas' time of punishment was almost over. Colnen, my beautiful daughter, and her husband, Halfod, were at the border, awaiting our arrival. I had never been happier to see the trees of Lórien – and even though Mirkwood had become a home for Cirvel and me, it could not compare to Lórien. When our party broke the barrier of the trees, I could swear that I felt the giant mellyrn trees envelop me and whisper wishes of my homecoming on the wind. It was magical, beautiful, and my soul relaxed to know I was in the place of my birth.

If the past few years had taught me aught, I knew a person's heart could belong to many places.

\----- 

"Mother!" Colnen exclaimed happily, throwing herself into my arms and squeezing tightly. "How I've missed you," she whispered into my hair. I stroked her back like I always had and basked in the familiarity of the gesture. I could tell she had missed it, too, in the same way a mother knows anything. I had never forgotten the feel of my daughter in my arms, but memories did not compare to reality. She still smelled the same, like the niphredil flowers that blanketed the forest floor. She pulled away and I saw tears glistening in her eyes.

"My daughter, do not cry," I whispered to her, pushing her hair behind her ears and kissing her forehead. "I am home now."

"I know, mother… I just missed you," she said. For my daughter, usually a vision of calm and collected, such visibility of her emotions was unusual but not unwelcome. She sniffed and smiled, extending her arms to Cirvel, who had been speaking with Halfod, our daughter's husband. After she had embraced Cirvel, I saw tears in his eyes too, and I smiled; deep down, my husband was soft.

Introductions were made between my family and Mirwen and Legolas, (who looked like he could not possibly find the entire exchange more boring) and the party moved into the wood. "Where is Nemir?" I asked Colnen, who had been bringing me up to date on the goings-on of the Wood. They had not written often, there were so few messages passed between the Golden Wood and Mirkwood, and so there was much for me to hear.

"Nemir is probably in a garden somewhere," Halfod replied. "She is trying to impress the Lady's gardeners and convince them to take her on as an apprentice. She has a real knack for it," he said proudly.

"Gardening," Cirvel mused aloud. "She will do well."

"She will have to work hard to get noticed by the Lady's gardeners," I commented, "They have always been exclusive; I assume that has not changed." I recalled one evening long ago when Cirvel and I were courting that had involved a borrowed – well, stolen – rose and a stern lecture that had left me unwilling to enter that garden for the next century.

"Nothing ever does here, mother," Colnen agreed good-naturedly.

"That is not necessarily true," floated the voice of the Lady Galadriel in my thoughts. "Much changes when you least expect it," she said. It sounded like a warning, and suddenly I felt uncomfortable. A look around me confirmed that everyone had heard her. Legolas was turning every which way to see where the voice had come from – I realized that I had forgotten to warn the boy about the unusual talents of the Lady of the Wood.

"Welcome back to Lothlórien, Aralin daughter of Rothlir," Galadriel spoke to me. "You, yourself, have changed much since you left."

\-----

Not wanting to be a burden to our family, Cirvel and I opted to stay in the visitor's quarters during our visit. It was a little bizarre, but very comfortable to stay there.

Mirwen left the wood after resting for a few days. She was not happy to leave, but had promised to bring royal tidings to the King of Gondor, a militant man who had named himself Hyarmendacil and who had ambitiously extended his kingdom as far as the Great Sea. The borders of his kingdom skirted Mirkwood's southern border, and Thranduil had wanted to open communications between them.

She also wanted to see more of Middle-Earth, as she had an insatiable curiosity about the world that I didn't understand, nor did I expect to. I was quite content with the little corner of Arda I inhabited. Originally, she had planned to take Legolas with her, but he threw quite the fit about leaving Lórien, so he stayed behind with us. His attitude was surprising, considering his behavior a few weeks before when he realized that his mother would be leaving him for many weeks, and his attitude shift was even more surprising considering that this was the first time he had ever been separated from his mother.

However, I had a sneaking suspicion about where the uncharacteristic tantrum had come from, since he was usually so much quieter about his disagreements, preferring to avoid conflict altogether by escaping and slipping away unnoticed; but perhaps the unfamiliar landscape had forced him to adapt. I believed that the cause of such temper was not lack of desire to see the world, since he lacked no curiosity, but a greater desire to spend time with a certain elleth.

… For the moment Legolas had set eyes on my granddaughter, Nemir, he had seen stars upon her brow. His young infatuation with her had become a topic of great amusement among her elders. Colnen and I teased her good-naturedly, and Nemir could not have been more embarrassed by it. She was not only mortified by the torment, but also thoroughly annoyed by Legolas' habit of following her around and trying to show off in front of her and her friends. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake him off or avoid him. I sympathized with her, knowing how Legolas could persevere when he devoted his mind to something.

"I only wish that he would leave me alone when I asked him, but he never gets the hint! What a thick-skulled brat!" she complained one evening at dinner. "I hate the child," she moaned, slumping forward over the table dramatically.

"You say that now," Colnen said, "but you know that now you have, you'll end up married to him someday," she teased. Nemir sat up straight, as rigid as the back of her chair.

"Mother, do not even say that," she warned. "He's such a little pest."

"Little pests grow up, you know," I joined in, enjoying tormenting my granddaughter more than I probably should. Her emotionally violent reactions were thoroughly amusing to the more seasoned elves. "He could grow up to be quite handsome. He looks much like his father."

"I don't care who he looks like, I only care that he won't let me have any time alone! He follows me everywhere," she complained melodramatically.

"And he is a prince," Colnen added slyly. "You could be a princess."

"You could move to Mirkwood and have a gaggle of little blonde-haired elflings, too." It didn't sound too unappealing, actually. I looked forward to seeing who Legolas would eventually come to marry – far in the future, of course, he was just a child. But he was such a sweet little elf, devious though he could be.

"Enough!" Nemir practically exploded. "I do not want to hear another word about the little sod nor do I ever want to see him again! Leave it alone!" She stormed out of her mother's talan, and deliberately stomped away until we could not hear her. We watched her go with little smiles on our faces. We were being unfair and we knew it. Her volatile temper was part of her youth, and to be fair, she had every right to be angry with us, the way that we'd been teasing her recently.

I remember when Halfod had first begun courting Colnen; Cirvel and I had been (nearly) merciless. She had borne her torment silently, knowing that we would stop eventually. We had, though it had taken a while for it to get old.

"Mother, you really are quite horrible," Colnen said with a small smile, sipping at a glass of sweet wine graciously given to us by the Lady.

"You are just as bad," I reminded her, watching Nemir's retreat through the forest through the open window. She was stomping away, no doubt cursing us and Legolas under her breath. I didn't blame her.

"Well I did learn from the best," my daughter replied. I settled down with her at the table and we talked of mother and daughter things late into the night.

\----- 

Time passed in the Golden Wood as it always did: barely noticeably. I had grown accustomed to the drastic changes that accompanied the seasons – the leaves turned and the wind swept through the trees, and those signs heralded the autumn and hastened in the winter. But in Lórien, I was enjoying just living life with my family surrounding me. I loved to cook with my daughter, tease and teach my granddaughter about life and adulthood, and teach Legolas about a culture other than the one to which he was so accustomed.

It was with a little shock that I was told of Mirwen's approach from Gondor. Her return meant that our departure to Mirkwood was imminent, and my season of summer in Lórien was drawing to a close. It was with a bittersweet heart that I began making my farewells to my family and my thoughts turned to my home again. Or, rather, my newest home.

Having returned to it, I now realized how easily I knew I could go back to Lórien in the future. I wouldn't have to say goodbye, because I could always come back. I loathed the idea of leaving Colnen, Nemir and Halfod, but I had already left them once, and while it was never going to be easy, it was with an optimistic heart that I departed the Golden Wood this time. We had planned to meet Mirwen and her party on the outskirts of the forest.

I could tell something was awry the moment I saw Mirwen's eyes. They were not as bright as they usually were, and her face was tightly drawn.

"Mirwen, what is wrong?" I asked, worry in my every syllable. Mirwen shook her head and gestured subtly to Legolas, which I took to mean that she did not want to discuss whatever it was in front of him. She welcomed Legolas into her arms, enveloping him in a tight embrace, which he tried to wriggle out of. Cirvel met my worried gaze and I communicated with him silently that I was anxious. He nodded, and said nothing. I knew I would have to wait to get my answers, and so I would.

Late in the night when Mirwen and I were sitting together by the fire, exchanging small talk about our visits, I asked her again what was the matter, but this time I approached the matter much more quietly. She was silent for a long moment before beginning:

"Before we left Gondor, the King offered to take my party to visit the southern edges of his kingdom, by the sea." My hand went to my lips, and I feared I knew exactly where this was going. Mirwen nodded grimly, affirming my suspicions. "I… I felt it, Lin. I felt the call. There wasn't anything I could have done not to… it just happened. I couldn't help it, and I didn't know I was going to," she defended firmly. I had a feeling that she had been telling herself this for some time now, trying to reassure herself.

"Thranduil already knows; he must. There is no way he could not, considering our bond." She hung her head and I rubbed her back.

"Everything will be fine," I tried to assure both her and myself. "I have heard of some remaining here, even long after they feel the call," I added.

"There is something else," she said, barely stifling a sob. She was crying now, and I hugged her tightly to my side. "Something you don't know yet," she whispered. She glanced around and mouthed, 'I'm with child', and then buried her face in her hands.

I didn't know what to do with this information; I could barely process the first bit of news, let alone this. I was happy for her, but I understood the weight that she now carried, both mentally and physically.

"Thranduil let you leave Mirkwood knowing that you were with child?" I hissed, shocked.

"He has let me before, you know," Mirwen reminded me, leveling a stare at me that reminded me of her rank, and of my own place.

"I am sorry, Mirwen, I was out of line saying that," I immediately apologized. She nodded her acceptance, and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Mirwen, I know you are worried, but you must look at this as a blessing," I urged quietly, "your child will be your strength," I assured her.

"The call is such a burden to bear," she whispered, looking off into the distance. I knew she was looking west.

"A gift," I reminded her solemnly.

"My son," she murmured, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. "Narulas."


End file.
